Sweet Junction
by the ramblin rose
Summary: This is a very AU story that takes place with no apocalypse. Daryl moves to the small town of Sweet Junction with his brother in an attempt to start fresh, when he gets there, though, he never expects the turn that his life is going to take. Many characters from the show as well as OCs. It will eventually have Caryl as the primary relationship. Merle/Andrea as well.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this is a very AU fic. No Walkers here, and our stars are younger than they are on the show. It will eventually be a Caryl fic, but many of the characters we know as well as a few new faces will be playing large roles in it. It's going to take a while to get to the Caryl part, so shippers be patient! **

**Also, Carol does not have Sophia, I just thought I would let you know. **

**Some of the characters will be somewhat OOC, I'm adapting to them to my needs, and we're not exactly sure what they would be like pre apocalypse living in a place like Sweet Junction.**

**That being said, I do hope you enjoy. I'll try to update as frequently as possible without ignoring my other fics completely.**

**Please let me know what you think. I love reviews and I love hearing from you. However, if you're just some nasty little anon troll who wants to leave ungrounded mean and nasty comments without the courage to sign your pen name to it, your comments will simply be deleted. **

**I own nothing from the Walking Dead. **

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Daryl woke when the truck came to a stop, lurching forward and rocking back on its springs. He opened his eyes, his forehead numb from resting against the vibrating window. He looked around for a moment in an attempt to get his bearings. They were parked outside some kind of hole in the wall with a flashing neon sign, the kind of place he was no stranger to, thanks to his brother.

"Wake up baby brothah," Merle called from the driver's seat. "Let's go in, get ta know the place we're callin' home."

Daryl didn't move for a moment, though he heard Merle open the creaking door of the truck and get out, slamming it shut. The damn thing wouldn't stay shut unless you slammed it. Daryl stirred then, sitting up. Another hole in the wall honky tonk in another shit town. That's what their lives were, a series of shit towns strung out along every god forsaken Georgia road imaginable.

They moved, it seemed, at least once a year when they were evicted from one nasty dwelling or another. It seemed like they were always trying to outrun themselves, trying to escape their legacy, but so far Daryl was sure that Hell and over half of Georgia knew who they were. Their reputations truly preceded them. Maybe if his good for nothing old man hadn't been such a womanizer, drunk, and cheat, they could have escaped it, but he'd pretty much made sure that the Dixon name was one that everyone cringed at.

Of course, Merle hadn't exactly done wonders for helping the image. It seemed that every time they relocated it was the same. Merle would end up friendly with the people that ran every sorry excuse for nightlife and entertainment that could be found. Anywhere that he could find enough booze to render him senseless or enough whores to fill up all the idle time he could have spent working a job so that they wouldn't get evicted from their shit apartments. Merle often ended up knowing the local law enforcement well, though their relationship was often less than friendly.

Daryl sighed and heaved the door of the Ford open, nearly falling out to his feet before slamming it shut and running his fingers through his hair. He blinked at the neon sign that was flashing. If it hadn't had a few letters burned out it would have proclaimed the fine establishment to be called The Watering Hole, but that could only be seen if you squinted at it. Right now it simply blinked "he Water Ho" which Daryl thought perhaps somewhat fitting.

Merle was already well on his way inside, and Daryl double stepped to fall behind his brother. He didn't care half as much for these kinds of places as Merle did, but since right now they only thing they had to call their own was a rusty old Ford with holes in the floorboards packed with cardboard boxes containing most of their worthless belongings, he didn't have much of a choice but to join his brother.

Merle saddled up to the bar as though he'd been in the place a thousand times. He banged his hand twice on the bar. Daryl fished in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shaking one out and lighting it.

"Don't think I've seen you 'round these parts," a heavier older woman with smut black hair said to Merle as she came to the bar to take their order.

"Well now, sugah, that's 'cause we just rolled inta town," Merle said, blatantly ogling the overly exposed breasts of the woman.

"In that case, welcome to Sweet Junction, first round's on the house," the woman said. "What'll it be?"

"Well…" Merle drawled, "that's awful nice a' ya…didn't catch ya name."

"Loretta," the woman said. "This here's my bar."

"How 'bout some whiskey for me an' my bruthah here. Somethin' ta put a lil' hair on his chest," Merle said. He winked at Loretta and took one of the toothpicks from a jar sitting near him.

"Comin' up," Loretta said.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably on the barstool. This place was what trailer park nightmares were made of. There were a few booths and tables that looked to be half decomposing. In one corner there appeared to be a poker game going on. There was, as was customary in every crappy honky tonk, a garishly lit jukebox with some drunk man in a wife beater hanging on it, as well as the customary two pool tables surrounded by some loud men that were laughing and cussing. Though Daryl was contributing to the smoky atmosphere he didn't feel bothered by it. The air was so thick with cigarette and cigar smoke that the entire scene in front of him nearly appeared to be something from black and white television.

"Here ya are, boys," Loretta said, putting down two shot glasses in front of them.

"I believe we gon' need tha bottle too there, darlin'," Merle said. He smiled at Loretta and the older woman seemed flattered. Daryl shook his head as she put a half empty bottle of whiskey on the bar.

"What was your name there, handsome?" She asked, leaning over the bar, her breasts nearly spilling out in front of Merle.

Daryl watched the scene with a little aversion. Merle most likely wasn't attracted to Loretta, at least not really, but he'd do anything to get in good with a bar owner that might allow him a tab larger than he'd ever be able to pay. Every time the Dixons ran away from their eviction notices, they also left behind a string of outrageous bar tabs that could have very nearly shut down a half dozen garbage heaps like this.

"Merle," Merle said. "An' this lil' piss ant's my brother, Daryl."

"How do," Loretta said.

Daryl nodded his head and took the shot that was sitting in front of him, hoping it might make the time they spent in the place he would forever think of as the "Water Ho" more bearable. Loretta immediately refilled the glass when he put in on the bar and he looked at the contents, holding off on his second shot though Merle was unceremoniously on his third or fourth already.

"My aren't you a cute lil' thing?" Loretta said. "You sure you're old enough to be drinkin'?"

Daryl tried to hide the expression that was creeping onto his face. He simply nodded again at Loretta and took the shot, hoping she'd go and talk to Merle, he was the Dixon with the most interest in talking to her.

"Boy's damn near mute," Merle said.

"Ain't fuckin' mute," Daryl growled finally, "just ain't got nothin' ta say. Where the hell is this anyway, Merle? Sweet Junction?"

"It's some damn place we ain't been ta brothah," Merle said, reaching over and plucking the pack of cigarettes out of Daryl's shirt pocket. Loretta had gone farther down the bar to tend to some of the others, likely regulars.

"Where the hell we gon' stay?" Daryl asked. He knew they had very little money left. If they were going to stay anywhere for long he was going to have to look for a job, and look for one soon. What they had in their pockets might get them a real shitty motel room for a night or so, but if he couldn't find something to do they were likely to be sleeping in the truck, though it wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

"Well, now, we'll find us a place, don't ya worry yer pretty lil' head about that Derlina," Merle said. He continued to scan the bar with his eyes taking shots from time to time. Daryl wanted to tell him to slow down, but he knew it was likely to just rile him up and he didn't exactly want to spend their first night in town getting to know the local law enforcement better.

Daryl sat at the bar chaining cigarette after cigarette. The drunk in the wife beater had come over to the bar now and slammed his beefy hand down demanding another beer. He squeezed his way between Daryl and Merle and Daryl looked at him. His eyes were half closed and he stunk worse than they did, which was saying a lot since they'd been without a working shower for almost a week now.

"Can I bum a smoke off ya there, boy?" The man asked Daryl. Daryl pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket and tossed them on the bar in front the man. He'd learned a long time ago that when he came into places like this he always left without his cigarettes. There was nothing like having a pack of cigarettes to make you new friends in a honky tonk.

Merle leaned around the man a bit to pour Daryl another shot and to catch his attention.

"Don't look now, Derlina, but ya got ya an admirer," Merle said. He ogled Daryl's would-be admirer, running his tongue inside his cheek. "Yeah boy, an' she's a nice piece too. Might do ya some good."

Daryl followed the direction of his brother's eyes and saw the woman that Merle was looking at. She was one of the barmaids, from what Daryl could tell, and she was leaning on the bar, her breasts falling out of the shirt she was wearing, waiting for Loretta to bring her some more beer.

The blonde was blatantly staring at Daryl, that much was obvious, but he wasn't interested. She looked like she'd seen her share of better days, and the way she was looking at Daryl just made him uncomfortable. He shifted a little.

"Wouldn't fuck her with yer dick," Daryl growled at his brother.

Merle chuckled, as did the man in the wife beater.

"Andrea?" The man in the wife beater said. Daryl wasn't sure how they were supposed to know the name of anyone in this place, but he didn't respond. "She's not bad, not bad at all. Always willin', if ya know what I mean."

Merle chuckled.

"Ah, hell, ya hear that lil' brothah? Ya could man up an' finally get'cha some, if ya weren't such a lil' girl about that shit," Merle said.

The drunk man chuckled again and elbowed Daryl. Daryl took another shot. It was the only way he was possibly going to make these two idiots tolerable.

"Don't tell me ya ain't never had no pussy?" The man said.

Daryl looked at him, but tried his best to ignore him.

"Nah…not Derlina here," Merle said, "first damn Dixon I ever met that was scared a' some sweet pussy. Ain't that right?"

"Man, shut up, Merle," Daryl protested finally.

The man in the wife beater laughed at him now, squinting at him downing half his beer.

"Ah hell, can't be like that!" He said. "Andrea! Andrea, come here! Got a proposition for ya!" The man called.

The blonde that had been ogling Daryl earlier turned back toward them, walking behind the bar with a tray full of empty beer mugs and shot glasses.

"Not tonight, Ed," she called. "Besides, ain't you got a wife to take care of that?"

"Not for me, it's for my little friend here," Ed said.

The woman called Andrea looked in his direction and smiled.

"I ain't for hire, Ed," she said.

"Everything's got its price, sweetness," Ed said.

When Andrea walked off with another round of beer for the rowdy men at the pool table, both Ed and Merle let their eyes trail after her. Daryl grabbed his pack of cigarettes and took another out.

"So ya got'cha an old lady, huh?" Merle asked, returning his attention to the bottle of whiskey in front of him.

"Got me a damn hussie's what I got me," Ed said. "'Bout can't beat it out a' her, ya know what I'm sayin'?" He chuckled. Merle half-heartedly returned the chuckle.

That was one thing that neither Merle nor Daryl did, they didn't believe in hitting women. Sure, there'd been plenty of times when they might have had to rough house a little with one of the drunken women that came home with Merle, but usually that was in self-defense. A drunken hell cat had to be controlled at the very least, but neither of them would ever take a swing at a woman, hell cat or otherwise.

"So how long you boys in town for?" Ed asked, accepting another beer from Loretta who stopped long enough to slam the mug in front of him and pour Daryl another shot.

"'Til they run us out, I reckon," Merle responded.

"I'm Ed Peletier," Ed said, holding his hand out to Merle. Merle took his hand in a hearty shake.

"Pe-le-tee-aye, huh?" Merle said, drawing out the man's name. "That French or some shit like that?"

Ed chuckled.

"I guess that's what the hell it is," he responded.

Merle nodded his head.

"Merle, Merle Dixon. Tinkerbell down there's Daryl," he said.

Daryl merely looked at them both in response. They sat there for a moment drinking before Daryl decided to throw himself into the conversation in the interest of information that they needed.

"Know anybody lookin' for work 'round these parts?" Daryl asked. His question simultaneously drew the attention of Ed and that of Loretta.

"I got my own construction place," Ed responded, talking more to Merle than to Daryl. "We're always short a few hands if ya want to stop by tomorrow. Ask directions to Route 3, the old McLeod place. We're puttin' up a barn for the old man. I might could pay you somethin' under the table 'til I know if ya gonna work out good."

Merle clapped Ed on the back then, smiling.

"Hey, hey, ya hear that, Daryl? Done got me a job. Sweet Junction might turn out ta be a sweet place after all," Merle said.

Daryl didn't much fancy the idea of working for Ed. There was something about the man's overall demeanor that didn't sit well with him. It was fine for Merle because Merle tended to get along with most anyone of questionable morals, but Daryl didn't think it suited him. Fortunately he had the attention of Loretta, her breasts spilling onto the bar directly in front of him.

"There's a farmer up the road that's been lookin' for a new hand," Loretta said to Daryl. "You just might fill the order if ya ain't scared of work."

"I ain't scared ta get my hands dirty," Daryl said.

Loretta winked at him. She poured him another shot.

"I didn't think you would be," she said. "Drop by there tomorrow. He's a man by the name of Hershel Greene. He and his wife Jo own a pretty big cattle operation, they're always lookin' for young men ta come and work for 'em. I'm sure you'll find ya a nice place there. He's got a pretty daughter too, prob'ly not much younger than you, just might catch your eye."

"Thank ya," Daryl said.

He glanced over and saw that Merle was lost in some kind of bawdy conversation with the Ed character. Daryl knew, especially now that he had a prospect for a job the next day, that they needed to find somewhere to stay for the night, and they needed to try and get to bed sometime before the sun came up.

"Hey Loretta," Daryl called.

The heavyset woman made her way back over to the bar and leaned in front of Daryl again. He tried not to stare at the crack between her breasts, but it was difficult when it was only inches from his face.

"There any place we could get a room 'round here?" Daryl asked. "We ain't got a place ta stay yet."

"Sweet Junction Motel's just about a half mile from here. They ain't clean, but they're cheap, an' that's 'bout all your gonna find 'round these parts unless you're lookin' ta rent," Loretta said.

"We'll be lookin' ta rent tomorrow," Daryl said, thinking about the possible income they'd come across. "Tonight we're just lookin' ta lay up for a whle."

"Sweet Junction Motel, cutie," Loretta said. "That's your best bet."

Daryl thanked her and looked back at Merle. He was still in conversation with his new found friend, Ed. Daryl glanced around the smoky room again and picked up the last shot he intended to take for the night. He didn't want to be hung over when he searched out this Hershel fellow for a job in the morning.

"Welcome the fuck ta Sweet Junction," he said to himself, tossing back the shot.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So here is the second chapter of many. This one is where we first meet our Carol! **

**I'll provide a little bit of a warning here that if you're disturbed by discussion of domestic violence, you might want to skip this chapter. **

**Let me know what you think! **

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Carol winced when she flipped on the bathroom light and looked in the mirror to survey the damage. She felt like this had been her routine for the past six years, but it was getting progressively worse, even she had to admit that.

No amount of make-up was going to cover this unless she could get her hands on some kind of theater make up or something suitable for making Halloween masks.

She smirked to herself at the thought. Her face looked more like the Halloween mask right now. She ran a wash cloth under warm water and gingerly dabbed at the dried blood around her busted lip. When she was satisfied that it was as clean as it was going to get, she rinsed the rag, watching the pink tinted water swirl around the sink and run down the drain. It had been a long time since she'd been squeamish at the sight of her own blood. She squeezed the rag out again and dabbed gently at the spot on her cheek where the skin had been busted.

When she'd heard him come in the night before there had been no mistaking that he was drunk. The fact that he hadn't killed himself driving home from The Watering Hole amazed her. Though she hated to admit it, sometimes she lie in bed at night and daydreamed a little about what it would be like if he did run his car off the road, maybe into a tree, and killed himself.

She imagined how she would react when Officer Grimes or Officer Walsh showed up at her door, perhaps solemn and forlorn, though all of Sweet Junction knew that he beat her mercilessly. Still, it would be their job to act as though reporting his death was the same thing as reporting some tragedy. Maybe she'd open the door to find one of them there, their hat in their hands, their head slightly hung, asking if they could come in, they needed to speak to her.

And then they'd tell her that Ed was dead. Like any dutiful wife she'd have to pretend that she was grieving his loss, that it was tragic news. She wondered, though, if she'd even be able to fake it well enough for them to buy it. She imagined that she'd bring herself to weep somehow, maybe thinking about how she'd felt when she'd lost her parents, maybe thinking about how betrayed she'd felt the first time he'd beat when they were barely married two weeks, maybe thinking about the baby she'd lost last Spring when Ed had pushed her down the basement stairs. Somehow she'd wring out a tear or two.

Then she'd ask them in for coffee, listen quietly as they recounted for her the gory details, making sure not to say anything that would upset her too bad, and then she'd make arrangements to have him laid to rest. She could play the solemn widow if she had to. She could convince the town that she was mourning, but really she knew she wouldn't be.

She no longer loved Ed Peletier, not one little bit. Whatever love she'd felt for him when she was young and foolish enough to believe the show that he put on for her was gone now. It wasn't possible to love a man who looked for any excuse he could, even inventing a few, to lay his hands on her.

Ed hadn't died last night though, just as he hadn't died any of the nights before that she'd indulged her widow's daydream. He'd come home, drunk, crashing through the front door as he often did. In his drunken trip down the hallway he'd knocked a picture off the wall and destroyed one of the small antique tables she'd put in the corner of the bedroom. He'd hurt his hand or his knee or something when he'd fell. That had been her fault too.

She'd stayed perfectly still in bed despite the noise he made, like a rhinoceros charging through the house, but it hadn't fooled him or either he hadn't cared. He'd drug her out of bed, yelling at her the trumped up charges that he'd created against her while he'd been out drinking. She hadn't fought against him. There was no use in fighting and it just made it worse. At least if she didn't fight back she could very often avoid trips to the emergency room declaring that she'd fallen again.

Everyone knew what was going on, but if they didn't, they had to think that she was the clumsiest woman on the face of the Earth. She'd "fallen down the basement stairs" so many times that if it were true she'd think they needed to provide her with a babysitter. In reality she'd only fallen down those stairs once, and even then she'd been pushed down them, it hadn't been her faulty step that had caused the spill.

Carol gently dabbed on as much make up as she dared to cake over the bruises. The problem with the make-up was that it didn't so much cover them as make them more obvious by virtue of the fact that the make-up contrasted so drastically with the dark purple of the bruises. She sighed and ran her fingers through her curls in an attempt to style it enough to help hide them.

She pulled on a long sleeve shirt, despite the heat, and wrapped one of the silk scarves that she had around her neck in an attempt to hide the finger shaped bruises there. She looked in the mirror again. It wasn't perfect, but at least with a pair of oversized sunglasses she could feel a little less self-conscious about it.

Carol slipped through the house, taking a moment to straighten a few of the picture frames that had been knocked crooked the night before. The table had been destroyed and she'd haul it out to the curb later. There'd be time to do that after Ed got off work. If she was going to leave the house, though, she had to do it quick while he was gone.

Carol got her purse and slipped out of the house quickly. In the car she gently slid her sunglasses on and took one last chance to check her reflection in the rearview mirror. It was as good as it was going to get. She backed out of the driveway and headed through town.

Sweet Junction was a town that was too small for its own good. Everyone knew everyone else and there was no such thing as a secret. Sure, people liked to pretend that they had secrets, just like Ed liked to pretend that no one except those rowdy assholes that congregated at The Watering Hole with him knew that he beat her, but there really weren't any secrets at all. If you sneezed at the super market someone would be waiting at your house with chicken soup by the time you pulled into the driveway. Everyone minded everyone else's business.

That was one of the things that Carol hated most about Sweet Junction. When people minded Ed's business, he didn't like it, and when something happened that Ed didn't like, she paid the price for it. Today she wasn't supposed to be out of the house. She didn't have permission. She thought, though, that she might be able to cover her tracks if someone reported to Ed that they saw her by saying that she had to go out to get something from the supermarket to make him lasagna for dinner. That was his favorite.

Carol pulled into the supermarket, as far as she could get from the actual store. She took a deep breath and got out the car quickly, bypassing the super market and slipping down one of the side streets behind the store as fast as she could. She didn't want to be spotted and she didn't want to draw attention. She was panting as she reached the small row of businesses. She glanced around, but didn't see anyone. Most everyone was at work right now, and hopefully not watching to see if Ed Peletier's wife was up to something.

Carol ducked inside the building that she'd been aiming for and realized she was almost out of breath. She stopped just inside the door for a moment and rested, trying to regain her composure. When she felt a little calmer she stepped up to the desk. The office smelled like moldy carpet and dusty books. She'd never been in a law office before, but she assumed that the smell might be normal.

"May I help you?" The girl at the reception desk asked. Carol recognized the girl. She was Amy Duff, and this was more than likely her summer job. Carol knew that the girl knew her too, though she probably didn't know her well. Carol was much more familiar with her sister Andrea. Suddenly she hoped that the girl didn't recognize her, because mentioning this to Andrea could really get her busted.

"Um," Carol stuttered, "I have an appointment with Michonne Williams," she finished.

"What's your name?" Amy asked.

"Carol McAlister," Carol answered, thankful that she'd been mindful enough to make the appointment under her maiden name.

"OK," Amy said. "I'll call you back when she's ready for you."

Carol thanked her and made her way to the small and, thankfully, empty waiting area. She didn't remove any of her clothing, even though it was far too stifling in the Georgia heat to wear long sleeves. She didn't want to draw any more attention from Amy than she already had. The last thing she needed was Andrea mentioning to Ed on one of his drinking binges that Carol had been at the lawyer's office.

"Ms. McAlister? Mrs. Williams can see you now," Amy called.

It took a moment for her old name to register with her again, but Carol got to her feet and took her purse following the young blonde back into one of the offices. Michonne was one of the only lawyers in town. She worked at the practice with her father, and though she was young, she was good at all the cases that Sweet Junction had to throw at her. Carol knew her well. They'd gone to school together, and though they'd never best friends or anything, they couldn't help but know each other.

Carol stepped into the room and heard Amy leave behind her. She closed the office door and Michonne looked up from the book she'd been studying on her desk. She stood up, extending her hand for a moment as though she didn't know who Carol was and then she looked surprised.

"Carol, I wasn't expecting you," Michonne said. She walked back over and leaned over what Carol could only assume now was an appointment book. "It's been so long since I saw your last name as McAlister that I didn't place it."

Carol stood awkwardly by the door waiting for instruction. She'd dealt with Michonne as a lawyer only in the few cases when Ed had gotten drunk and decided to be disorderly with someone besides herself.

"Please, I'm sorry, sit down," Michonne said. Carol made her way to the fake green leather chairs in front of Michonne's desk. Michonne stood a moment, unbuttoning her jacket, and then she sat. "What can I help you with?" She asked.

Carol put her purse in the chair next to her. She took off her shades and, without looking Michonne, unwrapped the scarf from around her neck.

"I want to leave him," she said, finally looking at Michonne. The lawyer wore no expression on her face, the mark of someone not wanting to offend their client at any cost. "I need help."

"I see," Michonne said, studying her for a moment.

"You don't have to pretend it's not bad, Michonne. I do have mirrors in my house," Carol said, half smiling. Michonne's face relaxed in response. "I can't pay you right now, but I do have money if I can get it away from him. Right now everything's in Ed's name and if he sees that I paid a lawyer he's going to go crazy."

"I understand, don't worry about that right now," Michonne said. Her face was one of concern now.

Carol fought back the tears. Just the concern on the other woman's face was more sympathy than she'd felt in years.

"I don't know what to do. If I leave him then he'll just come after me. I don't want to leave Sweet Junction, it's my home," Carol said.

Michonne nodded her understanding.

"Carol, we can get a restraining order. We can fix it so that if Ed even tries to touch you he goes to jail. Don't worry about that," Michonne said. "That can be arranged, I promise. As soon as Ed is served it goes into effect. Then we can work up the details of getting a divorce, splitting up assets and such."

Carol listened half-heartedly as Michonne talked to her in legal terms about things she didn't understand. Everything was in Ed's name. The only thing she knew she had was a savings account that held the money that her parents had left her when they passed away, but she wasn't even sure that it was technically hers anymore. She could care less about the money. She didn't want the house either. It held too many nightmarish memories for her. All that she really wanted right now was a good night's sleep without the fear that she'd be awakened in the middle of the night by Ed's hands around her throat.

"Did you hear me?" Michonne asked. Carol snapped out of her thoughts.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry," she said.

"I asked if you have somewhere to go," Michonne repeated. "Until Ed gets served, do you have somewhere to go?"

Carol shook her head.

"I'll stay at home until he's served. When they come to serve him, will I be allowed to go with Officer Grimes or Officer Walsh?" Carol asked. She was worried that the officers wouldn't escort her off the property, and once the papers were in Ed's hands she wanted to be out of his reach.

Michonne nodded.

"Yes, I mean they can escort you away from the house if that's what you want, but are you sure that you want to go back there until he's served?" Michonne asked.

Carol nodded.

"He doesn't know I'm here. It won't be any worse than it normally is until they serve him the papers. I'll just pretend that everything's normal," Carol said.

Michonne's face grew concerned again.

"Carol, if you don't have anywhere to go, you're welcome to stay with me," Michonne offered.

Carol smiled at her.

"That's sweet of you, but I couldn't impose. Besides, if I came to stay with you before Ed was under the restraining order he'd just find me, and then you could get caught in the crossfire," Carol said. "I'll be fine for two more days. I've made it this long."

Michonne looked concerned again, but finally she nodded her head. She picked up the phone and made a phone call that Carol only half listened to. Carol's heart was beating in her throat almost. She had to leave here without being seen. Then she could go to the supermarket and pick up the things she needed to make lasagna. Maybe having his favorite meal would appease Ed for the night. She might avoid another beating if she didn't mess anything else up. Then she'd only have to make it through a day or two, treading as easily as possible, until finally she could be free of him.

The very thought of her freedom from Ed would make any beating she suffered until then more than bearable, she was sure of that.

When she was finished and they'd discussed everything that Michonne wanted to talk about, Carol carefully replaced her scarf and sunglasses, gathering up her purse. Michonne got up from her chair and walked Carol to her office door.

"I mean it," Michonne said. "If you need to get away from him before Officer Grimes gets there, there's a guest room at my house. The girls are a little noisy, but no one will hurt you there, and Ed Peletier isn't getting into my home."

Carol smiled, fighting back a tear at the very offer.

"Thank you," she said. "I promise that I'll come if it gets too bad. It means a lot just that you offered."

Michonne reached out, and instead of shaking her hand, she pulled Carol into a hug. Carol sunk into the hug for a moment, the embrace being the kindest embrace that she'd felt since her mama had passed two years ago.

"You're doing the right thing by getting out of this," Michonne said. "We'll keep Ed Peletier in jail if we have to, but you're doing right to get out."

Carol nodded.

"I think I am," she said.

"Be careful, and please don't hesitate to call me if you need something," Michonne said.

Carol nodded again and thanked her before stepping out of the office and making her way back down the hallway. She slipped right past the reception desk without saying a thing to Amy who was sitting there reading a magazine. She made the trip as quickly as she could back to the supermarket and made her way inside gathering up a basket and slipping down the aisles collecting the things she needed to make lasagna. She ignored, as she often did, the glances cast at her by the people she encountered, people she'd known her entire life, who now hardly even had the nerve to speak to her.

When she'd finished her shopping she got back in the car and breathed a sigh of relief. She was fairly certain that she'd avoided being seen anywhere besides the supermarket and dinner could cover that sighting.

Despite it all, Carol felt lighter in the moment than she'd felt since the very first time that Ed's fist had made contact with her cheek over the very first dinner that she burned as a newlywed. It didn't matter if she had to live in a dump somewhere or work four pathetic jobs for less than minimum wage, she was going to get away from Ed Peletier, and she was going to be her own woman again. If there was anything that she'd learned from marriage, it was that a woman was better off without a man because you never knew what the man could turn into once they were behind closed doors.

Carol drove home, determined to pack her most precious possessions in a suitcase she could hide in the hall closet for when the police came. Ed could have the rest. She just had to survive a few more days.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'm glad to see some of you are enjoying my little story. We're still working, of course, on really getting into the meat of things. **

**For those of you that also read "Phantom Hearts," no worries, I'm not abandoning the story. The muse has hit me really hard for this story and I've got a couple of chapters after this one just driving me crazy to be written, so I'm focusing on this one long enough to get the ones that are driving me crazy out so that I can dedicate time to catching up my other stories.**

**Let me know what you think about Sweet Junction. Thanks for reading and reviewing! **

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Michonne stepped inside the house, tossing her briefcase beside the hall table as she did every day when she got home. She stopped beside the table and punched the button on the blinking answering machine. She scanned quickly through the messages, finding nothing of interest, and kicked her legs up one at a time to free her feet from the heels that had been killing her since just after lunch.

She came through the house carrying her heels in her hand. Her boyfriend, Damion, was sitting on the couch watching television and eating potato chips. Michonne curled her lip without meaning to.

"Where are the girls?" She asked.

"Dean called," Damion said, wiping his hand on his pants leg. "Said he was gonna keep them overnight."

"Use a napkin," Michonne said, "and no he's not, that's not the deal." She started down the hall to her bedroom and put her shoes in the closet. She peeled off her jacket and hung it up before looking around for the cordless phone that was supposed to be on the nightstand. "Where's the phone?" She called.

"I don't know, it was in there earlier," Damion's voice responded.

Michonne rolled her eyes. Damion was becoming less and less the prize he had seemed when they'd begun dating three months ago. Her youngest daughter had barely been a month old when Damion had asked her out, and now she was beginning to suspect that hormones or some kind of need for feeling validated after Dean's affair had been behind her relationship with him all along. The man was a pig. He hadn't had a job since two weeks after they'd begun to go out. He had his own house, where he slept most of the time, but he still insisted in spending most of his day at her house, probably just to consume all her groceries while she was working to make the money to buy them. He wasn't even good with the girls.

"I have got to unload this asshole," she whispered to herself as she searched through the covers and pillows on the bed. Apparently he'd decided to take a nap while she was at work, and due to the apparent issue with his thumbs being put on backwards, he hadn't remade her bed. She hated that. The only thing she hated more was when he ate food in the bed and left the crumbs there for her to find when she crawled in at night.

She came up with the phone and unzipped her skirt with one hand, dialing the numbers with her thumb. She stepped out of her skirt and hung it up, the phone pressed between her face and shoulder. She listened to the tone and then finally heard her ex-husband answer.

"Dean? Don't give me that, you know who it is. I want my girls home in an hour, Dean," Michonne said. She looked around the bedroom, half listening to the man on the line. She realized the pajama pants that she was searching for were still in the laundry room. Damion could spend his day here, but apparently he wasn't capable of doing anything around the house for her while he was doing it. "No, that wasn't the deal. You've had them all day, the deal was no nights. You don't even have cribs. Dean, one hour or I'm going to have Shane Walsh at your door so fast your head will spin."

Stripping her shirt off and throwing it into the dirty clothes basket, Michonne turned and started through the house in her underwear, stopping long enough to silently lecture Damion about not using a coaster.

"No, you bring them. I don't want them in the car with Cookie or Cupcake or whatever the hell your little girlfriend's name is. One hour, Dean," Michonne said. She hung up the phone without saying goodbye to the man and continued her trek into the laundry room to fish out her pajamas. She dressed in her tank top and pajama pants before coming back through to the living room and plopping on the loveseat. "Let me guess, you didn't find a job today either?" She said, rubbing at her temple.

"Tried, babe, but there just isn't anything in Sweet Junction," Damion responded, packing his mouth with more potato chips. Michonne made a mental note that she hated potato chips and never intended to buy another bag once he'd finished inhaling that one.

"Damion," she said with a sigh, "you can't tell me that in all of Sweet Junction you can't find not a single job."

"What'cha want me to do, Michonne? Wash cars for a living?" He asked.

"It would be doing more than holding my sofa down," Michonne growled. She checked the clock on the wall, taking note of the time in case she really did need to call Officer Walsh to get her kids back from their worthless excuse for a father.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" Damion asked.

Michonne rolled her eyes toward him and considered all the possible answers to that question. She could begin with her sudden regret that she was dating a man child and it was only two months since her divorce from the last man child had been declared final. She could follow that up with the fact that she was tired of telling said man child to stop using his clothing as a napkin and to stop putting glasses on her mother's antique coffee table without a coaster. If she really wanted to, she could go further into the fact that she had a really bad headache and desperately wanted her daughters to be home and said man child to disappear back to the bachelor pad that he occupied at night. And that wouldn't even begin to touch what was bothering her about work.

Michonne sighed and opted for the latter, not feeling like going through the movements of a break up at this particular moment.

"Work," she said. "I've just got a headache."

"So take somethin'," Damion slurred through a mouthful of potato chips. Michonne curled her lip again. She got up and went to the kitchen in search of Ibuprofen. Mostly she just didn't want to be looking at him any longer. "What happened at work that's got you so pissy?" Damion called from the living room.

"Someone came in today. I haven't really seen her in a while, and it was just a shock," Michonne said. She downed the pills and stood at the sink finishing the glass of water. She looked at the dishes in the sink, noting that the only one that was hers was the juice glass from this morning.

"Who was it?" Damion called.

"Carol Peletier," Michonne responded. "She used to be Carol McAlister, she's married now to Ed Peletier."

"The guy that owns that shit construction company in town?" Damion called back. Michonne headed back to the living room to cut down in the amount of yelling across the house that was taking place and also to check the clock.

"That's the one," she said, coming in and flopping back in her place on the loveseat.

"So what about it's got you stirred up?" Damion asked.

"She wants to leave her husband," Michonne said. "You should have seen her, Damion. It's just not right that a man would beat a woman like that."

"What's it got to do with you, though?" Damion asked.

"She wants me to help her with the divorce, of course," Michonne responded.

Michonne was quiet for a moment, half-heartedly turning her attention to whatever it was that was on television. When she got quiet Damion turned the volume up. It was some kind of stupid sitcom, probably one that she wouldn't like even if she was paying attention. She couldn't focus on the television, though, her mind kept drifting back to Carol and how beat up she looked.

"You know," Michonne started, Damion turned the television down again in response, "Carol was always that girl in school. You know the girl. She knew everyone's name. She was friends with everyone, at least to some degree. She was always nice to everyone, even the kids that other people bullied. She worked at the Dairy-O from the time she was probably fifteen," she said. She realized that Damion most likely didn't know Carol. He hadn't grown up in Sweet Junction so he didn't know everyone like most of the lifelong residents did. "Now she's living with some asshole that thinks her face is a punching bag," Michonne continued. "It just doesn't seem right."

"It's her own fault for letting it happen," Damion said. Michonne shot him a look.

"What did you say?" She asked.

"I said it's her own fault. If she hasn't done anything about it then she must not mind it all that bad," Damion said. Michonne craned her neck, his words made her skin crawl.

"Let me get this straight," Michonne said, sitting up. "You think that it's her fault that a man three times her size beats her?"

"She could always leave," Damion said.

"That's what she's trying to do!" Michonne responded. She realized that she was raising her voice now.

"I'm just saying that women like to go blaming those kinds of things on men, like the woman doesn't have anything to do with it," Damion said. "It's always the man's fault if there's fighting going on in the house or if there's cheating. No one really stops to ask what the woman's doing to make these things happen."

"It _is_ Ed Peletier's fault," Michonne growled, her temper rising. "Carol couldn't hurt Ed if you tied the man up first. For crying out loud, she was the kid that wouldn't kill bugs on the playground because they might have little bug families! And are you saying it's my fault that Dean cheated on me?"

"I'm not saying all that, Michonne, untwist your panties," Damion responded. "What I'm saying is that you don't know the whole story. Besides, I don't know why you're getting all worked up over some girl that used to work at the Dairy-O, what's it even matter to you?"

"It doesn't matter who it is, Damion, no woman should have to go through that because some asshole man gets off on it," Michonne responded. "And it's not her fault, either."

"Sorry I said anything," Damion said. "I can see that this is very important to you." Michonne didn't miss the hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I think it's time for you to go home, Damion," Michonne said. "Dean's going to be here soon with the girls and I'd just like a quiet evening."

"I thought we could order pizza, put a movie in for Anjelica or something," Damion said.

"I want to be alone, Damion," Michonne said.

Damion finally took the hint and got up from the couch. He left his mess there, but Michonne didn't say anything. She'd be more than happy to clean up yet another one of his messes if he'd just leave her alone for the evening. Damion crossed the room and leaned down to kiss her. She offered him a small peck to appease him and didn't move from her position on the couch.

"I hope things go better with your Dairy girl tomorrow, so you won't be so bitchy," Damion said.

"Fuck you," Michonne whispered, not loud enough for him to hear. She stayed in her position until she heard the door close. She listened for his car cranking and pulling out. She checked the clock again, noting that Dean had exactly twenty minutes to get there before she called the police station and reported him for kidnapping. She was not in the mood to be jerked around today.

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Daryl heaved one of the cardboard boxes through the door and put it on the torn linoleum floor in the kitchen. Sweet Junction Apartments wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but it was the only place in town to rent, and Daryl certainly wasn't looking to buy a house in this hell hole.

He'd almost moved all of their boxes in from the back of the truck. The farmer, Hershel, had been nice enough to advance him part of his month's salary on good faith when Daryl had explained to him, shortly after receiving a job, that he and his brother had nowhere to live except the cab of the rusty Ford.

Daryl looked around the place. The apartments advertised that they were furnished. Being the only apartments in town, however, he assumed they could say whatever they wanted. The place was a dump, and that was comparing it to the other dumps that he'd lived in. From the smell of the place the previous tenant had been a goat, and not a tidy one at that. Daryl didn't consider himself the cleanest man on the face of the Earth, but even he had the urge to run down to the Stop N' Shop and buy all the disinfecting supplies they had.

It would have to do, though, there wasn't much in the way of options.

"Home sweet fuckin' home," Daryl growled to himself. His stomach growled and he realized they didn't have any food in the house. Furthermore he had no idea where Merle was. He hadn't seen him since they'd parted company that morning, each heading in the direction of their possible new jobs. Daryl had two options, he could either go to the grocery store, which he hated doing, or he could check out the thriving metropolis of Sweet Junction and see what there was to eat around this place. One would benefit Merle, the other wouldn't.

Daryl reached in his pocket and felt the sweaty bills that he had crammed in their earlier. Merle could fend for himself. It wasn't like he was above spending a few bucks on himself to score some shit, whether they had it to spare or not. Daryl figured he could at least splurge on a burger and fries.

Daryl turned and left the apartment, pulling the door shut and pocketing the key, though he didn't bother to lock the door. He had all ideas that very few people lived in the beautiful units of Sweet Junction Apartments, and if any of them wanted any of the worthless shit crammed in the nasty hole that he now called home, he figured they probably needed it more than he did.

Daryl descended the stairs two at the time and came out onto the street. The red Ford was parked nearby, but he decided to walk instead of drive, mostly owing to the fact that he had no idea where anything was, but also owing to the fact that he didn't have money to keep putting gas in the truck and Hershel's farm was more than a fair stroll from their apartment building.

As Daryl strolled down the street he thumped a cigarette out of the pack that he carried in his shirt pocket. He returned the pack and lit the cigarette, taking in the sights around him, which weren't many. This place was dead, that much was for sure. He continued along, seeing a few people, most of which nodded at him as though they knew him. There didn't appear to be any large number of fine dining establishments in the area, but finally he stumbled upon a little place called "Lula's Diner" that boasted to have the best burgers in town. Daryl assumed the claim was probably based on the fact that they were the _only_ burgers in town.

Daryl pushed into the diner, hearing a bell sound on the door. Inside there were a few old men sitting around and talking, but otherwise the world famous diner looked to be unoccupied.

"Have a seat, hon', I'll be there in a minute," someone called. Daryl looked around, unable to trace where the sound had come from.

He looked around. There were booths or tables. The tables all offered hard wooden chairs that appeared built to be outside, and they didn't look inviting, though that was not to say the cracked red seats on the booths looked all that plush. Daryl finally selected a booth by the window and slid in, nodding his head slightly in response to a nod that he received from an old man with a beer belly seated a few tables over. Daryl looked out the window and watched the few cars driving up and down the street and the people who passed over the sidewalk, stopping from time to time for an impromptu conversation. Daryl felt like he'd just landed in the middle of some kind of shit version of Mayberry.

"What can I get'cha hon'?" A woman's voice brought Daryl out of his daydream and he turned to see a young, thin black woman holding a notepad and wearing a red and white checked apron. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the apron. The woman's nametag declared that she was Jacqui.

"What's good here, Jacqui?" Daryl asked. Jacqui smiled at him.

"You new here?" She asked. Daryl had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to get asked that a lot. Apparently there wasn't new blood in Sweet Junction very often.

"Yeah," Daryl said. He picked at the plastic checked table cloth a little.

"Cheeseburgers pretty good," Jacqui said, "unless you're in the mood for breakfast. We got the best omelets in town."

"Yeah, I saw ya got the best burgers in town to," Daryl said. Jacqui looked at him as though he'd just said the most bizarre thing in the world and he felt bad for a moment for questioning their claim to burger fame. "Just gimme a burger an' fries," he said.

"You want cheese?" Jacqui asked.

"Burgers come without cheese?" Daryl asked. Jacqui smiled at him.

"What to drink?" She asked.

"Milkshake," Daryl responded. "Strawberry if ya got it, whatever ya got if strawberry ain't OK."

"OK, just a couple of minutes," Jacqui said. "Oh, and welcome to Sweet Junction, hun'."

"Yeah," Daryl responded. He went back to looking out the window. Now he'd be working as a farm hand. It was the first time he'd had a job as a farm hand. He'd been just about everything else that you could dream of, but this was a first. He wondered how Merle was doing with his new friend Ed. Merle was pretty good at construction, and if he'd found himself a new drinking buddy he'd likely be thrilled with that.

The one good thing about the location of their apartments was that they didn't live too terribly far from "The Water Ho", so that meant that Merle could stumble home whenever he pleased and Daryl didn't have to worry too much about what his crack head brother was up to and whether or not he was going to get busted for DUI again. He didn't know what the jail around here was like, but if it was anything as old fashioned as everything else, Merle was likely to end up hung at the gallows if he wasn't careful.

When Daryl's food arrived he sat munching on the burger and staring out the window. The old men in the place had taken a sharp interest in him and their stares made him uncomfortable. From time to time he glanced at the front of the diner where Jacqui appeared to be rearranging things and filling shakers to kill time. Daryl wondered if it was just the time of day or this place never picked up.

Daryl ate in silence and when he'd finished his food he sucked down the rest of the milkshake, momentarily deterred by brain freeze, and slapped down enough money on the table to cover the bill and leave a decent tip for his new friend Jacqui. He got up and gestured at the woman on his way out the door. He headed back in the direction of the apartment, determining that he would wait there until it was late enough to go searching after Merle at "The Water Ho".

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When Daryl finally pushed open the door of the fine drinking establishment, it didn't take him long to locate Merle sitting at the bar and schmoozing the blonde from the night before. Daryl strode up to the bar and took a seat on the stool next to his brother.

"Well…hello there baby bruthah," Merle drawled.

"Did'ja actually go to work, or was ya just here all day wastin' money?" Daryl asked.

"I went ta work," Merle said. "Been workin' hard all day, don't'cha worry yer head 'bout me."

"We're apartment 12 in them shitty apartments 'bout three blocks from here," Daryl said.

"Oh? New residents of Sweet Junction Apartments?" Andrea asked, leaning over the bar. "What can I get'cha handsome?"

"Nothin'," Daryl said.

"Don't be such a pussy, Derlina," Merle said. "He'll have whiskey, sugah."

Andrea served the drink and walked off to tend to another group of customers. Merle poured himself another shot from the bottle sitting near him.

"Where's ya pal?" Daryl asked.

"Had ta go home," Merle said. "Said that hell cat he's married to was causin' trouble, went ta check it out. That one must be a handful. He's been talkin' 'bout her all day. She's been runnin' 'round with every pair of pants in this fine town."

Daryl took the shot in front of him and nodded a little.

"Don't make it right for him ta go braggin' 'bout beatin' it outta her, though," Daryl growled.

"Yeah," Merle said, "I don't think he oughtta go poundin' on her neither, but it ain't none a' my business. Man's just payin' me an' pickin' up our tab here. Besides, ya know men like that, they a lot more talk than anythin' else, lil' brothah, don't'cha lose no sleep over a piece a' pussy ya ain't even tasted."

Daryl shook his head at his brother and took another shot that Merle poured for him.

"Speakin' a' pussy, Derlina, ya oughta have a talk with that Andrea. She's eyin' ya real good an' if ya play ya cards right, ya might just get'cha a good taste," Merle said. "'Cause if ya ain't man enough ta take it when they throw it at'cha, I might just have ta steal it out from under ya." He ogled the blonde. Daryl cast her a look. She was waiting on a table of rowdy drunks who were getting more than an eyeful of tits, but she was glancing, every now and again, over her shoulder in their direction.

"If ya want it, take it," Daryl said. "I ain't got no interest in it."

"Ya one sorry excuse for a Dixon, boy," Merle said with a laugh.

Daryl got up from the stool.

"Maybe so, Merle, but I don't want nothin' she's handin' out," Daryl said. "We're apartment twelve. Ya better get'cha fuckin' ass home 'fore too late or ya gonna lose that job, whether Ed's ya pal or not."

Daryl turned to leave the bar and head back to the trash heap apartment they'd be calling home. He heard Merle laugh behind him.

"Why don't'cha just go on home then an' be a good lil' housekeeper. Me an' Ed got us an understandin', don't'cha worry 'bout that," Merle called.

"Don't'cha bring nobody back with ya, neither," Daryl called as an afterthought before continuing through the bar and out the front door.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So here's a second installment for the night, moving us forward! **

**This chapter comes with another warning. Domestic abuse is an issue ahead, so if you're uncomfortable, you should skip this chapter.**

**Let me know what you think! **

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Carol got loose long enough to sprint for the bedroom. She slammed the door and locked it. She knew full well that when Ed made it through the door there would be hell to pay, but it was bound to buy her a little time. She rushed to the phone and dialed the police station, hearing Ed cussing outside and throwing his weight against the door. She prayed the door and frame were solid enough to withstand him.

It grew quiet outside the door for a second and she heard the voice on the other end of the line.

"It's Carol Peletier…help me…" she whispered. She listened again. Ed was back outside the door and it sounded now like he had a better plan than his original attempt to merely break the door down. She listened to the sounds and realized that he was taking the door off the hinges. She knew he'd be through it in a matter of minutes. "Please help," she rasped again. She dropped the phone, leaving it off the hook in hopes that whatever the person on the other end of the line heard was enough to encourage the quick dispatch of whoever was on duty.

Carol darted across the room, away from the phone. Someone had told Ed that she was in town today and had reported seeing her apparently nowhere in the vicinity of the supermarket. Whoever the asshole gossip was, they'd already earned her more of a beating than she'd had in a while, and she didn't need Ed to notice her on the phone when the door came down. If he did, she was afraid she might not make it to see the officer arrive.

Carol stood there, panting and bracing herself as the final hinge gave way and the door gave up its flimsy protection.

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Rick drove through town with sirens on, his partner Shane behind him in another car. Nothing happened in Sweet Junction, which was one of the perks of being a police officer here. At the most they dealt with a few rowdy drunks now and again at The Watering Hole, but for the most part Loretta kept everyone in check. The phone call from the Peletier house tonight, though, had Rick on edge.

Everyone in town knew Ed Peletier and knew he was a brute. Rick would have loved to haul his ass into jail more than a few dozen times already just from catching a glance of Carol here and there about town. Until now, though, she'd never reported Ed, and nothing could be done if she didn't identify the abuse as a problem.

Now they had a call though, and the disturbing noises coming from the phone obviously left off the hook had convinced Rick that it was an emergency. He'd called Shane for backup and Shane had gladly joined him a few streets back, having nothing more to do than handle a few joyriding teens that threatened to disrupt the people who were actually out for dinner at the Dairy-O.

Rick roared into the driveway of the Peletier house and stopped just behind Ed's truck. He didn't know what he expected to find, but he kept his hand on his gun, just in case. Shane was out of his car a moment later and behind him for backup. Rick pounded on the door, announcing their presence, and waited a moment. A crashing sound inside followed by a scream was all he needed. He pounded again on the door, gesturing to Shane, and tried the knob. To his surprise the door was open. There would be no theatrical breaking down of doors tonight.

"Police!" He called, making his way into the house with Shane behind him. It took a moment to locate the source of the sounds, but he followed them down a hallway and finally came to the bedroom of the house, stepping over pieces of broken furniture and various other items as he went.

"Hands behind your back, Ed!" Shane called out from over Rick's shoulder.

Ed Peletier froze, holding his hands up. Shane was well known for being the more hot headed of the two and his gun was in his hand. Rick had known him to pull his gun on teenagers that were being too rowdy before. Ed wouldn't be stupid enough to give him the chance to actually fire it. Rick stepped forward and handcuffed Ed easily enough. He looked around him to find Carol on the floor.

"Shane, why don't you take Ed here and read him his rights. Take him to the jail and I'll handle Carol Ann," Rick said.

Shane was obviously happy with the job that he'd been given. He could find more than one excuse to bully Ed Peletier on his way to the car, and that was the kind of thing that Shane thrived on, though the town offered him very little opportunity to practice it. As soon as Shane had roughly taken Ed from the room at gunpoint, Rick knelt beside Carol.

"Easy," Rick said. "You're alright, it's Officer Rick Grimes," Rick said. Carol knew him and he knew her well, but he wasn't sure exactly what frame of mind she was in at the moment. The phone called out the alarm that it was off the hook somewhere in the room, but other than that there weren't any sounds in the house besides her sobbing. "Carol, can you hear me?" Rick said.

Carol made a move and sat up. Rick put his hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"I'm fine," she said, swallowing, her sobs slowing.

"I think maybe you should go to the hospital…" Rick started.

"No, no!" Carol said quickly. "I'm fine, I'll be fine."

Rick shook his head and looked around. The house in general was in shambles from the rampage that Ed had been on. He wasn't leaving Carol here.

"Look, Carol, at least let me take you home with me. Lori would be glad to have you, and we can take care of this with Ed. We can serve him the restraining order in jail. We'll hold him on domestic violence charges until we get it," Rick said. "I don't think you should stay alone, even if you won't go to the hospital. You could have a concussion."

Carol shook her head slightly.

"Michonne," she said.

"What?" Rick asked.

"Michonne, she said I could stay with her," Carol said. "I need to call her." Carol looked around as though she were trying to find the phone.

"Michonne Williams?" Rick asked. Carol nodded slightly.

"OK, Carol, I'll call her for you," Rick said. "Tomorrow you're going to have to come in and fill out some paperwork. Tonight, though, I'll take you over to her place."

"I need to pack my bag," Carol said.

Rick regarded her, not positive she was stable enough to do something as simple as pack a bag. He sighed.

"Carol, I don't know if it's broken or not, but your nose is bleeding a lot," he said.

Carol nodded a little.

"I can stop it," she said. "I just need to go to the bathroom."

Rick, realizing he wasn't going to win any kind of battle against the woman's will, essentially picked her up and put her on her feet. It was the easiest way to achieve the movement. She stumbled forward and he caught her, directing her toward the bathroom. She stumbled into the bathroom and he followed behind her a moment, making sure that she was stable enough to make it. When he heard the water running, he went around the room searching out the phone by the sound it was making. He hung it up and dialed the familiar number. He'd called the lawyer many times. In a town like Sweet Junction, everyone had the same lawyer, especially when there were only two and her father was more retired than not these days.

After Rick hung up the phone from his conversation with Michonne he watched as Carol fumbled around packing a bag. If need be he'd escort her back to the house for more of her things once Ed was out of jail, but for the time being she needed just enough to get her through the night.

Once Carol was satisfied that her bag was well packed, and once the bleeding from her nose had been stopped, Rick carried the two bags she had out to his cruiser and put them in the trunk. He opened the back of the cruiser and waited for her to lock the door of the house and make her way to him. He hated putting her in the back, but that was protocol.

She rode in silence until they reached Michonne's house. Rick opened the backseat of the car and helped Carol out. She stood to the side, leaning against the car and waiting on him to get her suitcases. He walked her up to the front door and knocked. Michonne opened the door in a bathrobe.

"I can carry these in for you," Rick offered.

Michonne nodded and let Carol and Rick both pass into the entrance hallway of the house. Carol stood, hugging herself, in the hallway, obviously unsure of what to do. Michonne directed Rick to where the guest room was located and took Carol by the shoulder, leading her into the living room. Rick deposited the bags in the room and passed back through. Michonne was waiting for him in the hallway.

"Are you sure it's fine with you if she stays here?" Rick asked. He was more than willing to take her home with him if he needed to. Her mother and his mother had been very close friends. Carol's mother had passed already, but he knew his own would be sorely disappointed in him if he didn't offer his home to Carol in a time of need like this.

"It's fine," Michonne said softly. Rick remembered that she had two small children and dropped his voice another notch so as to not wake them.

"Tomorrow she needs to fill out paperwork. We'll keep Ed until the restraining order comes through," Rick said. "We'll just keep an eye on him after that."

Michonne nodded.

"She'll be safe here," Michonne said. "Goodnight, Rick."

"Goodnight Michonne," Rick said. He let himself out the door that he'd come in, and Michonne closed it behind him.

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Michonne went to the bathroom and passed back into the living room with some damp washrags, cotton swabs, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. If it was possible, Carol looked twice as bad as she had in MIchonne's office earlier that day and Michonne was beating herself up for having let the woman go home.

"I'm sorry," Carol said when Michonne knelt in front of her.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Michonne said.

"I woke your baby up," Carol said.

Michonne realized that Carol was paying attention to Celine, her youngest daughter, who was singing in the pack and play next to the couch where Michonne had been sitting when Rick called.

"You didn't wake her up," Michonne said. "She's being hard headed and doesn't want to go to sleep. Her father let her sleep too much today, and if Celine's schedule gets off at all then it's a long night for the both of us." She explained, dabbing at Carol's face.

"You don't have to do this," Carol said, reaching up and catching Michonne's wrist. Michonne eyed her hand a moment and then gently pushed it away.

"I may not have to, but I'm going to," Michonne said. "This is going to burn a little, but I think I can clean it up pretty well. I'll get you some ice when I'm done. That eye is going to swell, and your nose might be broken."

Carol didn't protest or make any response other than to whisper a thank you. She sat still and Michonne cleaned her up as well as she could. When she finished, she cleaned up the mess around her and came back with an ice pack wrapped in a towel.

"You just relax here. I've got to get your room ready for you," Michonne said.

"I don't want you to go to any trouble!" Carol protested. "I'm fine on the couch."

Michonne smiled.

"It's no trouble," Michonne responded. Celine protested her position in the pack and play and Michonne noticed Carol glance in that direction. "You want to help me out?" She asked after a second. Carol looked at her.

"I'll do whatever you need me to," Carol said. Michonne smiled again.

"Good," she said. She walked over to the pack and play and picked up the four month old. She came over and gently deposited the baby in Carol's arms, handing her a pacifier. "Can you hold her? She's spoiled and she won't go to sleep without being held. I'm trying to break of it, but I don't think tonight's that night."

Carol looked down at the baby. She took the pacifier and offered it to the baby. Michonne left her there and slipped down the hall to make sure that there were clean sheets on the guest bed. When she got back, she took the dirty sheets to the laundry room and passed back into the living room. Carol was leaned back on the couch, watching the baby who was finally asleep.

"You're good at that," Michonne said softly.

Carol looked at her and smiled a little, her eyes spilling tears.

"I was going to have a baby," Carol said, "but Ed…" Carol paused and the tears came a little more freely. Michonne realized what the rest of the story probably was. She went to the side table by the couch and came back with some tissues, handing them to Carol.

"Hey, it's OK," Michonne said.

"If I had left him earlier…" Carol said, carefully dabbing at her eyes with the tissues.

"Don't think about that," Michonne said. "Think about the fact that you're out now. You've got your whole life ahead of you. Believe me, there are a lot of men out there, and a lot of babies to be had. Besides, being a single mother isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Carol shook her head.

"Not for me," she said. "I'm done with men."

Michonne chuckled a little.

"We're all done with men at one time or another," Michonne said. "Give it time. You'll find someone that'll treat you right. Right now, though, you've just got to focus on you because that's all that matters."

Carol stopped crying and nodded slightly.

Michonne gently took the baby from her.

"I'm going to put her in her crib," Michonne said, "then I'll show you your room and you can get some sleep. I'm sure you could use it. I have to work in the morning, but you sleep as late as you want."

Carol nodded again and Michonne left the room to put the baby down. When she got back Carol was sitting in the same position on the couch.

"Come on," Michonne said. "Let's get you to bed."

Carol turned and looked at her for a moment. She stood up and her step almost faltered. Michonne reached out to grab her arm and steady her. She led her down the hallway and into the guest room.

"This is too nice," Carol said when she came into the room.

"Nonsense," Michonne said. "It's just a room, Carol."

"You don't have to do all of this," Carol said, turning suddenly. "I shouldn't have come here…I shouldn't have imposed."

"It's not imposing when someone invites you," Michonne said. "You stay as long as you need to. It's no imposition to me."

"I'll look for a job tomorrow," Carol said. "I can get a place soon."

"You take your time," Michonne said. "There's no hurry."

Michonne bid Carol goodnight and left her in the guest room. She slipped into the nursery and checked the girls one last time before going to her own room and climbing into bed. It really wasn't an imposition having Carol there. She'd rather know that someone was staying in her house that needed instead of some deadbeat man who wouldn't get a job because he felt everything was beneath him.

Michonne turned off the lamp and lie there daydreaming to herself a little. She wanted to help Carol, and if anyone had asked her why she wouldn't be able to give them a direct answer. Perhaps it was because she felt like no woman should suffer at the hands of a man like Ed Peletier. Perhaps it was because she respected Carol's decision to get away from him now and take control of her life. Perhaps it was the memory of the sweet girl that she'd gone to school with for as far back as her memory went. Or perhaps it was because she remembered all too well the things that her best friend from college had suffered at the hands of her husband. It had been a fight that she hadn't deserved, and one that she had tragically lost. Michonne knew that this was something that Carol didn't deserve either, and she couldn't bear to see anyone else suffer the same way that Jasmine had.

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**AN: OK, so what do you think? It won't be long now before Carol and Daryl get to meet one another! Yay! **


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I'm so glad that some of you are enjoying this story!**

**There's been some concern about Phantom Hearts, and I assure you that it has not fallen by the wayside. I've got a couple more chapters here that I just have to get out so that my muse will focus elsewhere and not just keep bringing me back here. Then next on my list is a new chapter for Phantom Hearts. No worries!**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Michonne kept checking her watch in an attempt to keep track of time. She didn't want to call too early and make Carol wake up before she had to, but she needed to make sure that she gave her enough time to get ready before she came to pick her up. They had a busy day today, even though Carol wasn't aware of it yet.

The office, for the most part, was quiet. Michonne had very few things that she needed to take care of, and she was thankful for that because it allowed her to sink all of her attention into what she needed to do for Carol. She had full intentions of making sure that Carol got everything she deserved out of this, and when she was determined, she seldom failed.

Though she had represented Ed a few times in other cases, she'd passed his file off for this. She was representing Carol and that was that. At the moment she didn't care if she never even got paid for it. She was almost doing this as much for herself as she was for the woman that she'd left sleeping in her guest bedroom. Ed would be represented by someone from the county, though she had no idea who it would be and she didn't care. However ruthless his attorney could be, she was going to be sure to have a monkey wrench to throw into every one of their gears. Ed Peletier would pay through the nose so bad for he'd done that he'd have to mortgage his balls just to begin to make ends meet.

Michonne was going over her checklist for at least the fifth time, having consulted her father twice on the matter, when her phone rang, distracting her momentarily from her work. She reached over and answered it without really looking up from what she was doing. It took a moment for her to realize that it was Damion on the line.

"Hey babe," Damion said.

Michonne sighed and rolled her eyes. She didn't feel like being interrupted.

"What's up, Damion? I'm kind of busy," she said.

"I had an interview today with Harbeson Concrete," Damion said. Michonne perked up a little at the news.

"Oh? And? What happened? Did they offer you a job?" She asked. She paused in what she was doing and put her pen down.

"They did, but I didn't take it," Damion said.

"Why the hell not, Damion? You've been out of work for almost three months now!" Michonne said. She realized more and more that she was sick of this man.

"I went out for management, but they wanted to start me at the bottom. I'm not going back down to the bottom of the ladder," Damion said.

"Damion, you lost your job with County. You need to start wherever the hell they'll put you. You need a job, Damion," Michonne said.

"Babe, we're talking about grunt work here," He responded.

"I don't care if you're bagging groceries at the A and P," Michonne said. "I don't think you understand that I'm _not_ paying your bills again this month."

Michonne was frustrated now. She had been in a pretty good mood imaging the look on Ed Peletier's face when he realized exactly how screwed he was going to be, but now Damion's phone call had wrecked any feeling of joy that she had.

_Why am I still seeing this sorry motherfucker?_ She thought to herself. Damion had swept her off her feet at first, but then the picture that he painted of himself at the time was very different. He had a good job working in a management position for the county and he was coming around telling her how beautiful she was, how her husband had been an ass for letting someone like her get away, how much he loved children and didn't mind that her daughters weren't even a year apart. He had told her everything she'd needed to hear at the time.

Now was a different story. Now he was terminally unemployed, had no manners, mooched off of her constantly, and was always insisting that she look for babysitters or find some other way to keep the girls entertained so that they weren't in his way. She couldn't even remember the last time they'd slept together because something about the terminally unemployed did something to her sex drive.

"It's not that bad," Damion protested. "I might actually have something else lined up."

"What is that?" Michonne asked. She checked her watch again and then sat absentmindedly rolling her pen back and forth across the open file in front of her.

"Well, yesterday when I left your house I swung by Lula's to get something to eat," Damion said. "By the way, babe, you really need to go to the store, you're almost out of everything…"

Michonne rolled her eyes. There was plenty of food in her house if you weren't too lazy to cook something. Furthermore, there would be a lot more food in her house if he wasn't over there eating like he was training for some kind of contest on a daily basis.

"Get on with it, Damion, I've got appointments," Michonne said, not trying to hide the fact that she was frustrated.

"Well, anyway, I was in Lula's and guess who I saw there…Ed Peletier. So I started talking to him about his wife and stuff, and then I asked him if he was looking for anyone to work for him, and it turns out…" Damion continued speaking, but Michonne had stopped listening.

"You did what?!" She said suddenly. Damion was quiet for a moment.

"I went to Lula's," Damion said.

"After that, Damion, did you tell me you fucking talked to Ed Peletier? What in God's name were you thinking?!" Michonne yelled. Damion chuckled nervously on the other end of the line.

"Babe, it's not a big deal. I was just shootin' the shit with him to talk up a job," Damion responded.

"Where you fucking shooting the shit with him about _his wife?_" Michonne asked. She stood up and paced around the desk, ignoring the fact that she was tangling the phone cord around herself.

"All we did was talk about guy stuff, you know, the old ball and chain," Damion said.

"What the fuck did you say to him?" Michonne asked, trying to calm herself.

"I just asked him if he was happy to be getting rid of that weight," Damion said. "It was nothing."

Michonne couldn't even respond. She slammed the phone down without saying anything else. She heard the familiar beating on the paneling wall telling her that she was too loud. Her father probably had a client who didn't need to hear her outbursts.

Michonne untangled herself from the phone cord and sat back down at her desk. She put her elbows on the desk and rested her head in her hands for a moment. It had very likely been her who had been at least somewhat responsible for last night's events, and the thought made her want to vomit. She took a deep breath and looked back at the notes littering her desk. She might not be able to undo what was already done, but she could do her best to make sure she made it up to Carol somehow. She picked up the phone and called the locksmith first, demanding that someone be sent to her house as soon as possible to change the locks. Then she sighed and dialed the house, waiting for the machine to pick up.

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Carol couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so well. Despite the fact that she felt bad and there were throbbing pains especially in her head and chest, she had still slept deeply owing simply to the fact that she had known that there would be no one waking her rudely from her slumber. She'd woken slightly in the morning to the sound of Michonne apparently getting ready and getting the babies ready, but she'd drifted back off after orienting herself to the unfamiliar noises.

When she'd gotten up, she'd made her way into the kitchen and fixed breakfast, trying to make a mental note of what she'd eaten so that she could be sure to pay Michonne back as soon as she got a job. She was going to go later to see about getting some waitressing jobs. She also needed to look for a place to stay since she had little intent to keep imposing on Michonne. If she got a few jobs she'd be able to afford an apartment soon, cutting down on her time in Michonne's guest room and also helping her to build up some savings toward her own little house and maybe even a car.

Carol had gladly washed up the dishes in Michonne's sink after she'd eaten breakfast and wiped down the counters. The house was almost immaculate and she didn't want to be the one to dirty it up. It appeared that Michonne was a woman who liked order. Carol passed through the living room as well, picking up the baby toys that were in the floor and putting them in the corner where there was a large toy box, all the while daydreaming about her own little two bedroom starter home that she would be able to afford before too terribly long.

When the phone rang, Carol jumped. The house was so quiet that the sudden sound was startling. She listened to it ring until it finally went to the machine. She listened as Michonne's message played, and then she heard the woman's voice coming over the machine again.

"Carol, it's Michonne. If you're there, pick up the phone…" she paused. "Carol, I hope you're there, pick up the phone."

Carol walked over and quickly plucked a cordless phone off its charger on the table beside the couch.

"Hello?" She said.

"Oh good, you're there. I was afraid you'd gone out," Michonne said.

"No," Carol said. "I was going to go later to see about a job, but…well…it's a long walk into town and I was hoping that if you're not too busy later you could maybe drive me…" Carol suddenly felt bad asking for even more favors than she was already being offered. "Or, I can find someone, it's not a big deal," she finished quickly.

"Yeah…no…listen, Carol. I'm happy to drive you wherever you need to go, but right now I need you to get dressed. I'm coming to pick you up. I've got to take you to fill out some paperwork about Ed, and you've got a doctor's appointment. Then we'll get some lunch and I'll take you wherever you need to go," Michonne said.

"I've got a doctor's appointment?" Carol asked. Her insurance was under Ed and she didn't know how that worked. She didn't have any money, and she certainly didn't have any money to pay for medical bills of any kind. "I'm fine, I don't need to go to the doctor," Carol protested.

"I'm not arguing with you," Michonne said. "Just get ready and I'll be there to pick you up in less than a half hour."

"Wait," Carol said.

"What is it?" Michonne responded.

"Michonne, really, I don't have money. I can't afford this," Carol said.

"You're not paying for it," Michonne said. "It's for the case, it comes out of legal funds," she lied. "You don't have a choice. Just get ready."

Carol hung up the phone and went to get dressed. She had never done anything like this before, but she really hoped that at the end of it all she was going to be able to afford everything that it would cost to get divorced from Ed. She didn't know how much a divorce would cost, but right now she would give anything just to get one. She hadn't wanted anything as bad in her life before as she wanted to be completely free from Ed now.

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"What the fuck, Merle?" Daryl growled, sitting at the card table they pretended was a dining table. He held the cereal box upside down and shook it, but it was just as empty as he feared it would be.

"What's wrong, princess?" Merle asked, passing into the kitchen in his boxers.

"Ya ain't even fuckin' left me nothin' ta eat an' now I gotta go ta work!" Daryl said. He got up from the table and stared into the barren refrigerator. He plucked the carton of juice out and drank straight from the container, draining the last swallows.

"Ya gonna cry now like a lil' girl just 'cause ya old brothah ate ya Fruity Pebbles?" Merle asked.

"Why don't ya fuckin' get some money from ya boss an' buy some food?" Daryl asked. "I'm done workin' on credit an' I ain't even been on the job but a couple a' days. Where the hell is your damn paycheck?"

"Ya just hold tight, lil' brothah, I'll talk ta Ed about it today an' I'm sure I can bring us home a couple a' bucks so's ya can buy yaself some more cereal," Merle said, snickering.

"I don't fuckin' have time for this," Daryl growled. He grabbed the truck keys from the hook by the door. "I'm gonna fuckin' be late."

"How the hell am I supposed ta get ta work?" Merle asked.

"Walk," Daryl said, bounding down the termite ridden staircase. "That's what the hell ya get for eatin' all my damn cereal," he called back.

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Michonne sat in the waiting room beside Carol who was fidgeting.

"Are you sure I don't have to pay for this?" Carol asked for about the fifteenth time. Michonne was tired of hearing it, but she tried to access the patience center of her brain that kept her from exploding every day when she forced to read "Goodnight Moon" a half a dozen times for Anjelica. It hadn't taken long to fill out the paperwork pressing charges against Ed, but the doctor's office was much slower than they'd been at the jail.

"I'm positive," Michonne said. She rifled through some of the papers in her lap, checking her list again. The truth was that she was paying the bill, but she'd lied to Carol and told her it was customary that the law office pay for such things if the medical report would be beneficial to the case. She knew that Carol wouldn't stay planted in the uncomfortable waiting room chair if she had any idea at all that she was footing the bill.

"Ms. McAlister," a nurse called.

"That's you," Michonne said.

Carol turned her head and the young nurse smiled at both of them.

"Come on back and we'll get your lab work done," she said. Carol nodded and got up, leaving her purse with Michonne. Michonne welcomed the few moments of calm. She wanted on record exactly how much damage Ed had done. That, coupled with old files, would be enough to prove a case of long term, and probably severe abuse, though she hadn't quite yet acquired all of Carol's old files.

Michonne leaned back in the chair and glanced around the room. There was an old couple sitting across from her. She knew them, but not well. She couldn't recall their names, but she knew that the woman had once worked in the cafeteria at her Elementary school. She remembered the woman because she had tried to get lunch on credit one day, having forgotten her lunch money, and the woman hadn't allowed her, declaring in front of several other students that she couldn't give her credit in case she wouldn't pay it back.

It seemed funny to Michonne now. The old woman surely didn't remember her, and wouldn't remember the event, but Michonne had never forgotten the embarrassment of it. The thought that she wouldn't pay back a seventy five cent debt seemed ridiculous now. It was ridiculous then, as well, but now it was truly ludicrous. She managed her money well and she knew for a fact that she was currently one of the best to do people in all of Sweet Junction.

Carol came back a few minutes later and sat down next to Michonne, pressing a cotton ball in the crook of her arm.

"I talked her out of two suckers," Carol said with a smile. She held out two suckers to Michonne. "Take your pick."

"I'm good," Michonne said, snickering. She wondered how Carol could be in such a good mood right now when she looked like she did. Then again, she also couldn't imagine how it might feel to look like that and know that the man who had done it to you wasn't getting his hands on you again.

"Here, take your pick," Carol said, smiling and pushing the suckers toward Michonne again. Michonne smiled and took one of them. Carol pulled the wrapper off the one she was left holding and put it in her mouth. "Why is all this necessary again?" She asked around the sucker. Michonne removed the wrapper from her own.

"Because we need records that show exactly what kind of man that Ed was and what he did to you. It strengthens your case, and it's going to get you a lot more in restitution," Michonne answered. "I'm going to order the rest of your records too. Were there hospital stays, anything like that tied to Ed?"

Carol nodded.

"A few," she said. "Mostly I tried to take care of everything at home. There were a few broken ribs, a broken wrist once, a concussion…"

"Did he ever," Michonne paused, "did Ed ever force you to sleep with him when you didn't want to?" She hated asking these questions, but she needed to know these things. Carol looked a little embarrassed at first, but finally she just nodded.

"There were times," she answered.

"But not last night?" Michonne asked. Carol shook her head.

"Fine, at least I don't have to order a kit," Michonne said. "Did you ever report any of it?" Carol shook her head again.

Of course not. He had her trained exactly like he wanted. She would just tolerate whatever it was that he wanted to do to her. There was a paper trail, but it was going to be limited. Ed had been an expert at maintaining an abused wife. Michonne would have this medical report as the only guarantee, and hopefully she could shrug up some doubt on the other injuries that had been documented.

They called Carol back again and Michonne waited patiently until the doctor was done. When he'd finally come out, per Michonne's requests, he filled her in on everything. Last night's injuries were enough to prove that Ed was an animal. Her nose had been broken, and at least one rib was cracked, though Carol hadn't complained about any of it.

"Could ex rays show if others were cracked?" Michonne asked.

"Well, yes," the doctor responded.

"Could ex rays show any old fractures or breaks?" Michonne asked.

"Well, sure," the doctor said.

"Order them," Michonne said. "Everything. We need to know anything that we can get. Just have the nurse give my secretary a call and let her know when the appointments are. We'll be there."

After they left, Michonne loaded Carol back into the car. She checked her watch.

"We'll go and get some lunch," Michonne said, "and then I'll take you wherever you need to go."

"Don't you have to go back to work?" Carol asked.

"You're my only client today," Michonne said.

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When Daryl got home from work he was tired and sweaty. He came into the kitchen of their apartment and looked in the cabinet. He cursed when he remembered that there wasn't any food left. If Merle didn't bring some money home, he was going to have Hershel for more wages, and he'd already spent almost a month's worth of wages just covering the rent, gas for the truck, and the little bit of food that they'd already gone through. He didn't want to have to ask for more and fall even farther in the hole.

When Daryl realized that Merle wasn't home, he knew exactly where he'd find him. He would probably be down at the Water Ho drinking himself stupid and shooting the shit with Ed. The only reason it didn't make Daryl even more furious was that he knew that Merle was drinking on Ed's tab, otherwise he'd go down there just to rip him a new one for spending money that they didn't have.

Daryl started out the door of the apartment and made his way the down the dimly lit sidewalk to the garish neon sign. He walked through the front doors of the bar, dodging the regular drunks that ambled about the pool tables. Merle was sitting at the bar, just as he'd predicted, but Ed wasn't with him. The waitress, Andrea, was leaned up on Merle and it appeared that Merle was trying to talk something up. Daryl wasn't surprised.

"Did'ja get any money from ya pal?" Daryl asked, approaching Merle and ignoring Andrea's presence. Andrea, apparently realizing she had other customers, scampered off to wait on them. Daryl pulled himself onto the barstool and nodded his head in acknowledgement to Loretta who put a shot down in front of him.

"Hold yer horses there, brothah. Ed weren't at work today. Seems his old lady got him locked up. His right hand man was there handin' out orders, but he don't handle the pay," Merle said.

"We gotta fuckin' have some money soon, Merle," Daryl growled. "We ain't got no damn food an' we gon' have ta pay for water an' shit. I can't keep askin' the old man to fork over money when I can't even get a week's work in ta make up for the damn month's worth a' pay I done asked for."

"Easy, boy, I'ma get paid just as soon as Ed get's outta the clink. 'Parently that hell cat a' his got pissed off an' Jerry said they got him in there _'til further notice_, whatever tha hell that means, won't even let nobody bail his ass out. That must be how justice works 'round here," Merle said.

"You talking 'bout Ed Peletier," Andrea asked, wiping down the bar in front of them.

"Yeah, sugah," Merle said. "What you know 'bout it?"

"I know everything that happens in this godforsaken town," Andrea said. "Ed's wife called the law on him last night. They say he got a little carried away or somethin' an' she turned him in. He ain't done nothin' but bitch about her since I moved here three years ago, so I imagine that he'd be happy to unload her ass."

"Yeah…" Merle said, "That's why ole Merle don't do commitment." He winked at Andrea. She smiled at him.

"That's why I don't do commitment either," she said.

"Why buy the cow an' havta deal with all that shit when ya can get the milk for free, ain't that right?" Merle said, laughing.

"Why by the whole dirty ass pig when you only want a little bit of sausage?" Andrea responded, smiling at Merle. He chuckled at her.

Daryl rolled his eyes and took another shot.

"I don't give a damn why his worthless ass is in the clink, Merle, but ya better find some damn money or we gon' be right back where we was before we got ta this damn place," Daryl said. "Ya need ta get'cha a side job or somethin' 'cause it don't look like the one ya got's gonna pay for nothin'."

"Don't'cha worry 'bout it, Derlina, ya big brothah's gonna get'cha some more Fruity Pebbles," Merle said with a sneer. He reached in Daryl's pocket and plucked out the pack of cigarettes, lighting one and putting the pack down on the bar. Daryl snatched the pack back and stuffed it in his pocket.

"An' stop smokin' my damn cigarettes," Daryl growled.

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**AN: OK, OK, I promise the meeting is coming soon. I'm probably just as excited about getting them introduced to one another as you are, but I realized that I don't want to get ahead of myself since some things will come into play later and I don't want to leave them out. **

**No worries, it may take us time to get there, but I promise that Caryl is in the cards. ;-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I realized that I forgot to put it in the last chapter, but you can pretty much consider it a universal warning for a while that there may be mention/discussion about domestic violence. I'll warn you if there's anything particularly graphic and detailed, but the overall idea is going to be there for a while still. **

**I hope you enjoy! **

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"You cannot be serious with this list right now," Michonne said, taking another bite of pizza. She and Carol were both sitting on the floor in the living room. Michonne kept reaching over to wind Celine's swing so that the baby remained entertained by the lights and repetitive music. Anjelica had made herself comfortable sitting on Carol's lap and showing her repeatedly how exactly she made Mickey sing on the toy she was currently enthralled with.

"No, I am serious," Carol said. She had produced the list she was making to write pizza on it. Her intention was to pay Michonne back for everything that she used while she was there, just as soon as she had the means to do so. "I start work tomorrow, I'll be making money."

"Carol, an egg? How much does an egg even cost? And half a pizza?" Michonne asked. "You washed my dishes. I _hate_ dishes. We'll consider that worth an egg and a half a pizza. It's not like I could have ordered only half a pizza anyway."

"No, but you would have leftover pizza if I weren't eating it," Carol said.

"No, I wouldn't. Normally that asshole Damion would eat it," Michonne said. She chuckled. "He's going to be super pissed when he finds out I changed the locks and didn't tell him. I'm going to break up with him eventually, but I haven't had time yet."

"Because I've kept you busy all day," Carol said.

"Don't worry about it. We're getting you on your feet," Michonne said. She was quiet for a minute, as was Carol. Finally she spoke again. "Carol, are you sure you want to start working tomorrow? I mean you could take a few days off…Amy's only working at the office until August. You could work for us there. You shouldn't have to take some shit waitressing jobs and be on your feet all day."

"It's not big deal," Carol said. "I waitressed before Ed told me I couldn't work anymore. I like meeting new people. Besides, I'm not just going to lay around your house all day. I'm going to start earning money so I can get a place of my own and get out of your hair."

"I told you that you're not in my hair," Michonne said. "I like the company…it's quality company, and the girls like you. You could watch them for me during the day. I'd pay you. I'd much rather pay you to watch them and know they're here getting attention from one person instead of pay Roweena at the daycare to watch them along with seven other kids."

"I don't mind watching them," Carol said. "I could do that during the days that I'm not working at Lula's, like tomorrow. You're not going to pay me, though. You can just put that toward what I owe you for everything."

Michonne tossed the crust of the pizza into the almost empty box, not wanting to think about how many pieces she'd already eaten. She wiped her hands on her napkin and leaned back against couch, watching Carol entertaining her oldest daughter.

"Do you know why I became a lawyer?" Michonne asked after a few minutes.

Carol shook her head and turned her attention to Michonne. Michonne smiled at her. The pain medicine she'd gotten that day was obviously doing a number on her because Carol looked as relaxed as if she were pretty well trashed on hard liquor. Her head sort of bobbled from time to time, out of her control. Michonne made a mental note that half was good for her if she was going to try to do anything besides lie around the house.

"I had a roommate in college. Her name was Jasmine. She was probably one of the nicest people I've ever met," Michonne said. Carol nodded her head at her. "Jasmine dropped out of school our sophomore year because she was going to marry this guy. She was totally head over heels for him. I didn't see her or hear from her for forever, but finally, about eight months after she got married, I made a trip out to where she lived to visit for a few days. Sort of a surprise visit. When I got there, I found out that Jasmine was being abused by this man. They weren't even married eight months and the asshole was already beating on her. She, like any good abused person, insisted that it was her own fault. She didn't have dinner ready on time, the laundry wasn't done, whatever the reason, there was always a reason."

Michonne stopped a moment. Carol was looking in her direction, but she wasn't looking at her any longer. Michonne knew full well that Carol was thinking about her own situation, and probably how many times the very same excuses had crossed her own lips.

"Well, I didn't know what to do about it, so I just let it go. It wasn't my place to do anything, you know? Her marriage, her life. So, just as I was about to graduate from college, with my English degree that I had no idea what I was going to use it for, I got this phone call. It was Jasmine's mom. It seems that the asshole that Jasmine was married to finally beat her with some sort of blunt object, I've heard it was a table leg or a baseball bat, but it really doesn't matter now, until she suffered brain trauma," Michonne broke off, taking a minute to try and separate herself from the memory.

After a moment, she noticed Carol looking at her again like she wanted to know the rest of the story. She cleared her throat.

"Jasmine didn't make it. She just slipped away. And that asshole, through whatever loophole in the system that they found, walked away after only serving six months. It just didn't seem fair to me that one of the most beautiful souls I'd ever known was gone, and the person that did it was just as free as you please," Michonne heard her own voice crack and she cleared her throat again, pausing for a moment. "Anyway, it was then that I knew what I was going to do. I was going to make sure that if I ever had the chance, nothing like that was going to happen on my watch. It won't ever make it up to Jasmine, but at least someone else doesn't get that phone call."

Carol didn't look at her now. She was pretending to be focused on the toy she was manipulating her hands for Anjelica, but Michonne knew that wasn't what was going on.

"I'm sorry," Michonne said, finally.

"No," Carol said softly, "I'm sorry that you lost your friend that way, but you don't owe all this to me. I mean I just pop into your life after so many years and you've done so much already."

Michonne smiled.

"Do you remember in second grade when we both had Mrs. Locke?" Michonne asked.

Carol nodded her head.

"Do you remember that she would do those little birthday cupcakes for everyone when it was their birthday?" Michonne asked.

"I guess so," Carol said. "That was a long time ago." Michonne nodded.

"Well, she did, but she forgot my birthday. I was so upset about it that I cried at lunch time and you gave me your pudding cup," Michonne said. She smiled. "Consider it payback."

"How can you remember something like that?" Carol asked.

"Are you kidding?" Michonne asked. "It might not seem like much now, but a birthday pudding cup to an eight year old is a big deal."

Carol giggled at her and Michonne noticed that her eyes were getting heavy.

"It's time for me to get these girls to bed," Michonne said. "And you could use some rest yourself, especially if you're really thinking of going through with this crazy plan to work tomorrow night."

"I am," Carol said, yawning.

Michonne got up and walked over, scooping up Anjelica. She reached a hand out to Carol and helped her get to her feet.

"Then go to bed or else I'm not letting you out of the house," Michonne said. Carol nodded at her and patted the baby on the head.

"Wake me up in the morning. I'll watch the girls while you're at work," Carol said.

"I'll think about it," Michonne said, "but only if you're in bed before I get Celine to fall asleep."

Carol smiled at her and started down the hall, weaving a little as she went. Michonne stood at the end of the hall balancing Anjelica on her hip until she saw Carol close the bedroom door.

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Merle's boss still wasn't out of jail, but Daryl wasn't as pissed about it as he had been. He'd worked all day at the Greene farm, spending more time with cows than he'd ever hoped to spend with them, and now he was sitting next to Merle at his favorite spot at the Water Ho. Merle had put cheeseburgers on Ed's tab, though, so Daryl was feeling a little less cranky about things.

Loretta appeared to be off for the night, as far as Daryl could tell, but Andrea was hustling about, laughing and talking to the regulars and carting tray after tray of liquid courage to the already drunk men who took every opportunity they could to pinch her ass or offer tips with the intention of slipping them down inside her exposed cleavage.

Daryl sat quietly and ate his burger, thinking that Lula's Diner really did have the best burgers in town if this was all they had to compare themselves to. Still, most of the people that would eat in an establishment such as this one were too drunk to know the difference and it was a free burger which beat the hell out of a great big dinner of nothing that he would have had at home.

Everytime Andrea passed back through the bar area she looked impatient, checking the time on the neon clock above the bar provided by some beer that probably tasted like piss.

"What's tha mattah, sweetcheeks?" Merle asked finally. "Got'cha a hot date or somethin'?"

"No," Andrea said, blowing out the breath she was holding in a puff. "Supposed to have a new girl in here tonight and she's ten minutes late already. I'm supposed to train her to work nights when either me or Loretta's off, and she can't even get her ass to work on time the first night."

"Can't find good help these days," Merle said. Daryl rolled his eyes, thinking how ironic it was that such a statement should come from his brother of all people.

"Sure as hell can't," Andrea said. "Finally!" She called after a while.

Daryl had finished his burger now and was smoking a cigarette, leaning on his hand. A small framed woman walked in and came straight to the back of the bar. She was wearing long pants, a long sleeved button up shirt, a scarf, and sunglasses. Her hair was curly and auburn, but most of the rest of her was hidden, at least from his angle. She looked almost humorous standing there near Andrea in a tank top that very nearly exposed everything she had and shorts that were shorter than most people's underwear.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Andrea asked as the woman ducked to put her purse in one of the cabinets behind the bar.

"Loretta said there wasn't a dress code," the woman said softly. Andrea put her hands on her hips and Daryl almost laughed. She was pissed.

"There isn't a uniform, but you dress for the job you work," Andrea said. She walked over and sat two large, empty glass mayonnaise jars on the bar in front of Daryl. "We work for tips around here, your check isn't going to cover the taxes on your tips. Drunk men pay big tips, but they want to see some ass and titties to do it," Andrea said.

"Hear, hear!" Merle said, raising his shot glass before downing it. Andrea winked at him before returning her attention to the woman who was apparently a starlet afraid of being recognized.

From the look of the mayonnaise jar Andrea wasn't doing too shabby for the time of evening that it was. Daryl wondered if he could get a job that paid that well.

"We split tips around here, so that means tomorrow you better fuckin' dress like you're trying to earn some money and not like you're a nun. This is a bar, not a convent," Andrea said.

"I'm…I'm sorry," the woman said. Andrea sighed, her hands returning to her hips.

"Do you have anything on under that shirt?" She asked. The woman shook her head.

"Well, shit," Andrea said. "Fuckin' lose the glasses, and the scarf and unbutton that thing at least. We're not making much tonight, and it's going to be your fault that I lose half of the shit I put my ass out here to earn. Get to work. Your job is to serve and entertain, you think you can handle that, princess?"

The woman nodded. Daryl watched as Andrea put the mayonnaise jars back under the bar and resumed smiling, gathering up another tray of drinks and walking around to make sure that all the resident drunks were well lubricated.

"When ya get settled in there, sweetness, how 'bout ya just dig 'round under that bar there an' get me another bottle," Merle said.

The woman standing awkwardly behind the bar nodded. She turned her back to them, facing the cabinet where she was stashing her belongings. She peeled off her scarf and sunglasses and stood with her back to them unbuttoning her shirt. Daryl was just wondering to himself what kind of person wore fucking long sleeves in heat like this, but then she turned around.

"Sweet Jesus!" Merle growled under his breath. Daryl didn't miss it. Daryl had never seen a woman so black and blue before, even though he'd seen his share of shiners. He didn't say anything, though, realizing that the woman probably felt pretty self-conscious about it as it was. There wasn't any way that she wasn't aware of what the damage looked like.

The woman pasted on a smile and stepped in front of Merle.

"What can I get you?" She asked. Daryl could see her chest rising and falling and he recognized the rhythm. He had a problem with panic attacks in situations where he felt really out of control of his elements, and she looked just luck she was on the verge of one herself.

"Whiskey," Merle said. His tone of voice had changed, and Daryl noticed he wasn't wearing the same shit eating grin that he'd been wearing the whole evening.

"OK," she said, smiling at him again, despite the fact that Merle wasn't wearing a smile. She fumbled around under the bar and came up with a bottle of whiskey, sitting it in front of Merle and sweeping away the empty one that he'd been draining for a while. The woman turned to Daryl and smiled then. "Can I get something for you?" She asked.

Daryl couldn't find his tongue for a moment. He was caught off guard first by the overall appearance of the woman. It would be impossible not to be shocked by the condition of her face, or by the obviously finger shaped bruises that encircled her throat. On top of that, though, Daryl was struck by how soft she seemed. She was soft spoken, very unlike Andrea, and she almost seemed far too delicate to be in a place like this, despite the fact that her markings would say otherwise.

"I'm good," Daryl finally stuttered out.

"Are you done?" She asked, gesturing at his plate. He held the plate toward her and she took it, disappearing for a moment.

"Holy hell, lil' brothah, I hope ta hell she got that from gettin' caught bumpin' uglies with some hell cat's old man," Merle drawled when the woman was gone.

"Ain't no woman that done that," Daryl said finally. "Look at her neck, son of a bitch's hands were bigger'n mine."

"Still coulda been a woman, lil' brothah," Merle said. Daryl could see on his face that he was trying to crack a joke, but it was only halfhearted. There was nothing that boiled Merle's blood quicker than seeing a woman wearing bruises like that.

The woman came back around the bar and walked around to a few tables. Daryl watched as she smiled at the bar's patrons, took orders, and carried drinks, trying to imitate Andrea, but she wasn't very good at imitating her. The two were cut from different cloth, that much was clear. He stayed at the bar longer than he normally did, watching the woman and accepting shots from Merle.

Sometime later, Andrea came back over to the bar with the quieter woman at behind her. She heaved up the mayonnaise jars again and dropped the bills she had crammed into her pocket in one of the jars. The quiet woman deposited a few bills and coins into her own jar.

"Well that's just great," Andrea said. "It's going to be a slim damn night tonight. Remember, Carol, your job here is just as much to entertain as it is to serve drinks. Shy doesn't make money."

Daryl watched the woman as she eyed the tip jars for a minute. Beyond the mask of bruises that she was wearing, he could see that she was an attractive woman. She had some of the bluest eyes that Daryl had ever seen, and right now she looked like the saddest person he'd ever seen. She sighed turned, heaving up another tray of drinks and disappearing. He watched her as she circled around one of the pool tables, leaning uncomfortably against the table to put her breasts in the face of the men playing pool, just like Andrea did.

Andrea circled around then and Daryl heard Merle talking to her.

"How 'bout we go back ta your place, sugah, after ya all closed up here," Merle said. "I got me a few days off an' my lil' brothah here won't be 'round ta bug us. I'll take good care a' ya."

Daryl curled his lip instinctively at his brother. Seriously, Merle had no standards. It was true that Merle chided him that his standards were too high, and perhaps they were since he had yet to find any woman that was what he wanted, but he didn't think that the extreme opposite of that line, the place where his brother resided, was that much better.

"Can't go back to my place," Andrea said, leaning into Merle and running her finger down his neck and into the top of his wife beater. "Got me a cunt roommate, but if you've got somewhere we can go, I'm off in a couple of hours."

Merle chuckled. Daryl didn't want to hear the rest of it. He didn't want to anymore of it at all, in fact, and he had a feeling that he was going to find out just how soundproof the walls in Sweet Junction Apartments were. He had the sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't be nearly as thick as he was going to wish they were.

Daryl sighed and dug around in his pocket. He pulled out one of the sweaty, balled up twenties that his brother didn't know he was carrying around. He cast a glance back at the woman that Andrea had called Carol and watched as she gathered up empty glasses from one of the now abandoned booths. He cast his attention on Merle and found that he and Andrea were otherwise occupied at the moment exploring each other's tonsils. He reached up and dropped the bill into the mayonnaise jar that belonged to Carol and then slid off his barstool, picking up his cigarettes.

"I'm goin' home, Merle," he said. "Somebody's gotta fuckin' go ta work tomorrow if'n we don't wanna be out on the streets."

"Night, Derlina, don't wait up fer me," Merle drawled.

Daryl shot him the finger and headed toward the door, casting one final glance in the direction of the new waitress.

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**AN: So they've finally met, though they don't know much of anything about each other yet. That comes later. ;-)**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I'm glad to see that some of you are still enjoying our little story. I've got a couple more chapters here that are begging to be written so I'm going to be a bad person and put off some of the stuff I should be doing to indulge my muse.**

**Just a note for anyone concerned about Andrea. I *am* taking Andrea OOC. I feel I should explain that I am not an Andrea fan. I know some people love her and I respect that. She's just not my cup of tea. While she was on the show there were times when I sort of liked her, and there were times when I wanted to be driving a bus that ran over her for annoying me. That being said, I've made her a character of my own, if you will, for this story.**

**That being said, I do *not* see Andrea in the story as a *bad* person. I see her as sexually autonomous in that she chooses who she wants to be with, when she wants to be with them, and what (if any) recompense she receives. Yes, she does rip into Carol, but ironically even I'm willing to forgive her for that given the fact that her mentality would be someone who is frustrated by her situation. Look at the place she works and the life she leads. For her, a good or a bad night is a big deal. I don't intend for her to be permanently bitchy, actually not in the slightest, but even though she's OOC for the show, I'm attempting to make her a realistic portrayal of the character that she plays within the tapestry of Sweet Junction. Daryl isn't fond of her (yet) but I think that's because she represents for him a kind of woman that he doesn't understand/isn't comfortable with. I hope that might clear a few things up on the Andrea character. I'll shut up now.**

**That being said, let's continue, shall we? Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl lie awake in his bed. It was hard enough to sleep on the damn thing with springs poking him from every which direction, but the sounds coming from Merle's room weren't helping. He bet that fucking Andrea woman stayed overnight, too. That would be a real treat in the morning. The only thing they had in the house to eat was some old rat poison he found in the back of the cabinet, but she was welcome to that if it hit the spot.

He hoped that the twenty he left for the Carol woman was enough to at least get Andrea off her back. He had no idea how much Andrea typically pulled in for a night at the Water Ho, but he hoped that the twenty helped even out their tip jars a little. He felt sorry for the woman, though he knew nothing about her besides the fact that someone had taken it upon themselves to almost entirely rearrange her face. He figured that anyone that looked like she did and was working at the Water Ho when they were obviously very uncomfortable around such a crowd probably needed the twenty even more than he did.

The sounds from the other room continued and Daryl flipped over, wishing that his well-furnished palace had at least come with a pillow so he could bury his head in it. As it stood, though, they didn't even have sheets for the bed.

As the realization of the lack of sheets crossed Daryl's mind, he cringed again at the howling drifting in through the walls. It would probably be best to burn the mattress that Merle was sleeping on. Daryl sighed and pounded on the wall with his fist.

"Knock that shit off!" He yelled. "I gotta fuckin' work tomorrow!"

The sounds didn't cease immediately, but when they did, Daryl finally drifted off.

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"But what I don't understand is how it got there," Carol said, following Michonne around the kitchen with Celine in her arms. Ed had gotten out of jail early that morning and Michonne had gotten the phone call from Rick. She had immediately declared that she was staying home from work and working from home, but first she was making them both a breakfast fit for linebackers.

"Maybe you picked it up from someone and just didn't notice the bill," Michonne said.

"I think I'd notice the difference between a one dollar bill and a twenty," Carol said.

"Then you've got an admirer," Michonne said. "Someone who thought your service was worth a twenty. Did you hit it off with anyone in particular?"

Carol shook her head.

"Not really," Carol said. "Most of the men were more interested in me getting Andrea's attention."

Michonne frowned a moment and paused in beating the eggs she had in a bowl to deposit a few more melba cookies on the high chair in front of Anjelica. She went back to her eggs.

"Well it had to get in the jar somehow, Carol. I don't think there's a tip fairy flying around at a place like The Watering Hole," Michonne said.

Carol sat down in one of the chairs at the table and kissed at Celine a moment, obviously thinking about her mysterious tip.

"Did you do this?" Carol asked.

Michonne smiled at her, scrambling the eggs.

"Yes, Carol, it was me. I snuck into The Watering Hole late last night with both the girls who were supposed to have been in bed for quite a while and put that twenty in your jar. Then I snuck out again without drawing even the slightest bit of attention from anyone," Michonne said.

Carol scoffed at her.

"A simple 'no' would have been fine," Carol said.

"I'm sorry," Michonne apologized. "I'm just not in a very good mood today."

"What's wrong?" Carol asked.

Michonne eyed Carol a moment and thought about the absurdity of the situation. Here was Carol, having accepted essentially three part time jobs, one of which was about one of the most degrading positions she could think of in Sweet Junction, and she was about to tell her how she was having a bad day because she didn't want her ex-husband to keep the girls until dinner time. She would have opted to take back her earlier comment, but Carol was already looking at her expectantly. Michonne sighed.

"It's nothing, really. Dean is coming to pick the girls up in a little bit. Usually he picks them up from Roweena, but since I'm home for the day he's coming to get them here. He gets to keep them until six this evening, and I just don't really like when they're with him," Michonne explained. She walked over and put bread in the toaster, pushing down the lever. It wouldn't be long now and they could eat.

Carol nodded.

"Dean isn't good with the girls?" She asked.

"Dean is about as responsible as a four year old hyped up on birthday cake," Michonne said. "I mean he's got this girlfriend, I don't know what the fuck her name is…Cupcake, Cookie, Cocoa, I don't know…something that will rot your teeth…and on top of that he doesn't even seem to notice that he's really a father. The man doesn't even have cribs or anything. How do you have two infant daughters and you didn't even think it might be a good idea to have somewhere for them to sleep if the need arose?" Michonne said.

"What happened between you two?" Carol asked.

"Well...when I found out that I was pregnant with Celine, Dean just kind of checked out. He said he couldn't handle it. I caught him sleeping with his edible girlfriend, and that was pretty much that," Michonne said. Considering the details of Carol's impending divorce, she realized hers paled by comparison. Essentially she had married a man child that was afraid of commitment. He wanted children, practically begged her to have Anjelica, but that was right up until he realized that children weren't as convenient as sitcoms made them out to be.

Almost as if on cue, Celine began to cry. Carol tried to soothe the infant.

"Don't worry about it," Michonne said. "I've got to feed her. Come get a plate and eat some breakfast," she said, walking over and taking the unhappy baby from Carol. Carol got up and went to start making a plate. "Take as much as you want, and I mean it. None of that list ridiculousness," Michonne said, settling down in one of the chairs to feed her youngest.

Carol came over a few minutes later and put a plate in front of Michonne. Michonne looked at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

"You fixed it, the least I can do is serve it," Carol said. "Besides, it's good practice for later today when I start at Lula's. Don't look at me like that."

Michonne thanked her and began to eat with her free hand, watching as Carol fixed her own plate.

"Just be careful today," Michonne said. "I'm going to drive you into work and you don't leave until I get back to Lula's to pick you up."

"You don't think Ed's going to try anything do you? I mean we have the restraining order now and he just got out of jail," Carol said, coming to the table with her own plate.

"You just stay there and wait for me," Michonne said. "I don't think Ed's dumb enough to try anything, but I wouldn't put anything past him."

Carol nodded and started eating her breakfast, a look of concern plastered on her face.

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Daryl didn't have to look in the kitchen to know there was nothing there for breakfast. Merle probably hadn't bought groceries in his entire life, and Daryl hadn't been down to the store to get anything else. Daryl passed through there buttoning his shirt, ready to go to work without breakfast and hoping that Hershel's wife, Jo, was nice enough to make him another sandwich for lunch.

Andrea was in the kitchen when he passed through, wearing her tank top from the night before and a pair of Merle's boxers.

"Where is your food?" She asked, looking in the empty cabinets.

"Ain't got none," Daryl said. "Ain't gon' have much a' nothin' 'til Merle gets his ass a job that pays money." Daryl took his keys off the hook by the door. "Merle!" He called.

"What tha hell ya want?" Merle called back.

"Ya goin' ta work today or what?" Daryl asked.

Merle appeared behind Andrea then wearing just his boxers.

"Yeah, Daryl, I'ma go tha fuck down there, but I ain't gettin' paid 'less Ed's there, so I ain't stayin' if he ain't. I ain't workin' fer charity," Merle said.

Daryl sighed.

"Well if he ain't there ya better start lookin' for somewhere else ta work 'cause I don't think this here job's workin' out for ya," Daryl said.

"Just keep ya shorts on, lil' brothah, I'll find somethin' if he ain't there," Merle said.

Daryl didn't stay any longer and didn't bother to extend any further words to Merle or to Andrea. He plucked the truck keys from the hook by the door and left quickly to head for work.

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When Daryl got to Hershel's farm he parked in the shade underneath the tree that he always parked under. He crawled out of the cab of the truck and started toward the barn in search of Hershel to get instructions for the day.

As Daryl reached the barn he almost ran into the youngest of the Greene girls who was coming out with a bucket of milk. She smiled shyly at Daryl and he tipped his head at her. Her name was Beth and Daryl figured she was just beyond the age of scraped elbows and skinned knees.

Daryl proceeded to the barn where he found Hershel in the back apparently taking inventory.

"What'cha need me ta do today?" Daryl asked. The man turned, apparently having not noticed Daryl walking into the barn.

"Mornin' son," Hershel said. "There isn't much to do today. I need you to take this hay down to the other barn and then I've got to go into town. I thought you might like to ride with me. I've got to pick up some feed and I thought we might grab lunch in town."

Daryl chewed at his thumb and nodded. He didn't care how Hershel Greene wanted to spend his day. The man had forwarded him almost a month's worth of pay on credit, and that meant that he was obliged to do whatever he needed, whether that was move hay, punch cattle, or accompany him into town.

"Fine, I'll be ready ta go when ya want me," Daryl said. He walked past Hershel and wrestled with one of the hay bales that Hershel needed to be moved.

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Daryl loaded the truck for Hershel at the Feed and Seed with the help of one of the men that worked there. When the back of it was packed, Hershel drove the two of them downtown and parked in front of Lula's Diner.

"You ever been here, son?" Hershel asked, switching off his truck. Daryl reached around fumbled with his seatbelt.

"Yeah, I had me a burger here," Daryl answered.

"Lula's been running this diner for as long as I can remember," Hershel said. "The burgers are good, but the omelets are better." He made no immediate move to get out of the truck, so Daryl sat still and waited.

"Is her name really Lula?" Daryl asked. Hershel chuckled.

"No, her name's really Lucille, but her sister, Loretta, is only about two years older than she is. Whenever Lula was little, Loretta couldn't ever say 'Lucy', so she called her Loolie. Her parents just finally took to calling her Lula after that. That's all I've ever known her as," Hershel said. "She and Jo have been friends since they were just girls in school. Lula's one of the reasons that Jo and I ended up dating when we were younger. If you ever find you a girl, Daryl, don't ever underestimate the power of her girlfriends. They can make or break your relationship at times."

Daryl didn't know much about women, but he knew they loved to sit around and flap their jaws with other women, so he didn't doubt the old man's word on the subject. Furthermore, Hershel Greene seemed to be old enough to know what he was talking about, and his wife was a nice old woman. Daryl knew she made good chicken salad sandwiches and that she had a strong liking for calling him 'darling' and 'sweetheart' even though he'd done nothing to earn the titles from her.

"Shall we go get somethin' to eat?" Hershel asked. Daryl nodded and both of them got out of the truck. Daryl imagined that the feed loaded in the back was safe. It would be hard for any would-be thief to run off with any of the heavy bags, and besides that, Sweet Junction seemed like a place where the crime rate was probably fairly low.

Daryl followed Hershel into the diner and cast a quick glance around for Jacqui, but he didn't see her. Maybe she didn't work every day at the diner. He followed Hershel to a table and took the seat opposite him in the booth. Daryl craned his neck around the side of the booth checking again for Jacqui. He had liked her. She had a nice face.

"Looking for someone?" Hershel asked.

Daryl turned around and shrugged.

"I was lookin' for Jacqui," Daryl said.

"Oh? How do you know Jacqui?" Hershel asked. Daryl looked at him for a moment and then remembered that apparently he was the only person in this town that didn't know every single other soul that resided there.

"She waited on me when I come here before, but it don't look like she's here today," Daryl said.

A few moments later a large older woman walked over. Daryl immediately figured out that this must be Lula, and her barely two year older sister Loretta must be none other than the Loretta that owned the Water Ho. The two almost looked like twins. They were about the same height, and certainly the same build. The biggest difference between them being the fact that Loretta seemed to fancy dying her hair a smutty charcoal black while Lula's preferred color was some kind of red that almost looked purple to Daryl.

"Well Hershel!" The woman crowed as she walked over, "I didn't expect to see you in here today!"

Hershel smiled at her and she leaned over to hug him in the booth. Daryl sat back a little uncomfortably and hoped she didn't greet all her customers that way.

"Had to come into town for some feed, so I thought we'd stop by and grab a bite," Hershel said.

Lula turned her attention to Daryl.

"And who's this? This isn't one of your sons is it?" Lula asked.

"No, no," Hershel said with a smile. "The boys are still off sewing their wild oats. This here is Daryl. He's new in town and working for me out on the farm."

Lula laughed and Daryl couldn't help but smile at her. Her laugh was contagious and jolly.

"Well welcome to Sweet Junction," Lula said. Daryl thought she even sounded like her sister, except for the fact that it sounded like Loretta had perhaps a few more years worth of smoking under her belt, giving her voice a more gravelly quality than her younger sister.

Daryl nodded in response and glanced around a moment while Lula continued to talk to Hershel. There were more people in the diner now than had been there when he came on his own and he decided that the time of day must mean a lot in this town.

"Did y'all make any good zucchini this year?" Lula asked Hershel, leaning against the table.

"We've made a mess of them," Hershel said. "You should come and get some. We've got more than we'll ever eat."

"You tell Jo that I finished putting up those peach preserves and I'd be more than happy to trade her a few jars for some of that zucchini bread that she makes," Lula said.

"I'll do that, Lula," Hershel said.

"You ready to order?" Lula asked. Daryl looked at Hershel. He didn't really know what to order, so he was probably going to go with his customary burger at this point. He noticed that the diner didn't seem to have menus. It was as if everyone just knew what they offered to eat here.

"I want one of your loaded omelets," Hershel said.

"Hash browns?" Lula asked.

"Of course," Hershel said smiling. "All the way. Did you make the sweet tea today?"

"You know I did," Lula said. She winked at Hershel and turned to Daryl. He had gotten distracted a moment because he noticed another waitress waiting on a booth on the other side of the diner. As she'd turned, he'd realized it was the woman from the Water Ho. He watched her a moment. She looked much less out of place in the fifties style uniforms that they wore at the diner, though he still thought the checked aprons looked ridiculous.

"Son, what do you want to eat?" Hershel asked, snapping Daryl out of his daydream.

"Oh, uh, burger an' fries," Daryl said. "Strawberry milkshake…who's that girl? I seen her some place before."

Hershel and Lula both turned at the same time and Daryl hoped that she didn't notice them all three looking in her direction.

"Good heavens!" Hershel exclaimed. "Is that Carol Ann?"

"Sure is," Lula responded, jotting down Daryl's order. "She's comin' to fill in part time for me. Her husband sure did a number on her, didn't he? Poor thing's tryin' to leave him and she doesn't have any way to pay her way."

Hershel studied the woman a moment longer and turned back around in the booth, looking at Lula.

"Good for her if she's finally left him," Hershel said. "I'll see if we can't take up a collection for her at church."

"Won't take charity," Lula said. "Shane Walsh was in here earlier and he said that they went to get her. Rick Grimes took her over to Michonne Williams' house. I reckon she's staying there for a spell because Michonne came in to tell me not to let her leave here and to call Rick or Shane right away if Ed so much as looked in the window."

Daryl froze for a minute at the mention of the name.

"Ed?" He asked. He looked around again, but Carol had disappeared. He presumed that she was gone to the back of the restaurant with the order from the booth.

"Mmmhmmm," Lula said, leaning again on the table. "She's married to Ed Peletier. He's been mistreating her like that since they got married, but I've never seen it quite like this."

"It's a shame," Hershel said. "Well, if she won't take charity from the church, then how about sneak a little something on my bill to pay for some extra tips. Jo and I've got it to give and if it'll get that girl away from him I'd rather her have it than someone else come beggin' for it."

"I'll do that, hon'," Lula said. "I'm paying her double what I pay the others, but she doesn't know that. I told Jacqui and Donna they both get Christmas bonuses that they'll remember if they don't tell her that she's getting special treatment." Lula sighed and then the smile from earlier returned to her face. "I'm going to put your orders in and I'll have your food out here in a jiffy. Don't forget, Hershel, I want some of Jo's bread."

"I won't forget," Hershel said.

Daryl sat back in the booth a little incensed.

So the woman that he'd slipped money to at the Water Ho was Ed Peletier's wife. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. Merle was under the impression that the woman that Ed was married to, the woman that had gotten Ed locked up for a few days, was a full blown hell cat. She had been described in such a way that Daryl had even painted a picture of her for himself. Ed supposedly only roughed her up to keep control of her, so she must be a formidable woman, and one that would lash out at a man of Ed's stature. She was shaming him by running around with every pair of pants in Sweet Junction as well. Now, though, as Daryl thought of the woman that he'd now seen twice, he saw nothing of the woman that was described to him.

Daryl was snapped out of his daydream again when the food was placed on the table and he physically jumped when he realized it was Carol that was putting it down. He looked at her and nervously smiled. She smiled at him, but she didn't look she recognized him.

Daryl thought about it. What reason would she have to recognize him? They hadn't exactly interacted much at the Water Ho and it appeared she had a lot going on in her life right now. Furthermore, Daryl wasn't sure that he wanted Hershel, God fearing man that he was, knowing that he frequented the bar nightly, even it was mostly to collect his half-drunk brother.

"Carol Ann, sweetheart," Hershel said, catching the woman's hand in his when she'd put the plates down. "I haven't seen you since your Mama passed, how have you been?"

Daryl looked at the old man and back at Carol. He realized this was the polite social banter that one was expected to engage in while in an establishment such as this, but it didn't make the question sound any less ridiculous. Her face was the color of a blueberry, how did the old man think she'd been?

"Things are going well," Carol said. Daryl picked at his fries and glanced at her sideways, not wanting to openly stare.

"Honey, you should come to church sometime. We haven't seen you there in ages," Hershel said.

Daryl almost scoffed, but he held it back. That's how it was with the church going types like that. He'd seen it a million times before. Your life was in shambles and you didn't have two dimes to rub together and they'd always try to drag you to their church. Feed your soul, they said. Unfortunately they seemed to forget that what you really needed was a roof over your head and food on your table if you wanted to even live to make it to their precious churches.

"Oh…well…I'm sure I will…" Carol said. She glanced nervously over her shoulder and turned back, pulling her hand loose from that of the farmer. "Do you need anything else? I really should be getting back to work."

Daryl shook his head and Hershel declared that he didn't need anything either. She smiled again and walked away. Daryl let his eyes follow her for a moment before turning back to his burger. He hoped that Hershel wasn't in much of a chatty mood because right now he didn't want to talk to anyone.

"It's such a shame," the old man said softly, picking up his fork. Daryl didn't respond and Hershel didn't say anything else. Daryl was grateful for the silence and ate quickly, still trying to process the fact that the shy woman was the supposed hell cat he'd heard Merle and Ed both talk about. Daryl wondered what Merle was going to think when he got home and told him that he'd seen old Ed Peletier's wife, and that Merle had seen her too, though he'd probably never imagined whose face he was looking at.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I feel like I need to say this at some point in almost all of my fics. I am no expert on many of the things that I write. Therefore suspension of disbelief is required. You may know more about certain things that I do and see that things are not factually correct. If that bothers you, I apologize. Again, I do not claim to be an expert. I am merely trying to provide you with an entertaining story and I'm sorry if any facts that I mess up bother you. Google is my only friend in many cases.

I hope you enjoy!

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Daryl hadn't felt like going to the bar after work. He was too worried that he might run into Ed Peletier there, and he didn't know how he'd react to the asshole now that he had a face to go with the woman that he'd heard the man brag about beating so often. When he'd gotten home, he'd been surprised to find that there was food in the cabinets, and some in the refrigerator as well. It wasn't a glorious bounty by any means, but it was more than the half used box of outdated rat poison which had been the only contents of said cabinets when he'd left that morning. He had no idea how the food got there, but he assumed that Merle had gone to buy it after work, though that was entirely unlike his brother. Daryl wasn't hungry, though. Something about eating the food bought with Ed's money turned his stomach a little.

When Merle burst through the kitchen door, Daryl was sitting at the card table in the kitchen, the lights still switched off, smoking cigarette after cigarette and absentmindedly shuffling a deck of cards that he'd found in one of the drawers in his bedroom.

"Ain't got no damn electricity?" Merle asked, stumbling into the dark kitchen.

"Just ain't got up ta turn it on," Daryl said, shuffling the cards again.

"Ya playin' solitaire in tha dark, boy?" Merle asked. He flipped on the light switch. Daryl could tell from where he was sitting that his brother was pretty well drunk, though not to a point of being completely gone.

"Nah," Daryl said.

"What tha hell ya doin' then?" Merle asked.

"Where'd the food come from?" Daryl asked, ignoring his brother's question.

"What?" Merle asked. He leaned against the counter.

"Where'd the food come from, Merle?" Daryl repeated.

"Andrea brought it, said she weren't stayin' in no house she couldn't have a snack in," Merle said. He smiled.

"Ya didn't buy it with Ed's money, then?" Daryl asked.

Merle looked at him like he had no idea what was going on, and Daryl realized that was essentially because he didn't have any idea what was going on. On top of that, the liquor saturating his brain wasn't going to make him the sharpest tool in the shed.

"I done told ya that Andrea brought it," Merle said. "Why tha fuck ya think I was gonna go an' buy this shit? She got fuckin' milk an' eggs an' shit, do that look like somethin' ya brothah was gonna buy at tha store?"

Daryl shook his head and went back to fiddling with his cards.

"The fuck is wrong with ya tonight, Derlina? Ya ain't even come down ta tha bar an' now ya sulkin' like someone just drowned ya damn cat," Merle went to the cabinet and started shuffling around in it. "Look here, boy, she even brought ya some a' that damn cereal ya like. Wipe that fuckin' face off."

"You remember that woman down at the bar?" Daryl asked. "The one that somebody fucked up?"

"Yeah," Merle said. "What about her?"

"I saw her again today," Daryl said. "She was workin' down there at the diner in town. I was eatin' there with the old man."

"This story got a point, Daryl? 'Cause I'm kinda ready for bed if it ain't," Merle said.

"She's Ed fuckin' Peletier's wife," Daryl snapped.

"The hell you talkin' 'bout?" Merle asked.

"That woman, she's Ed Peletier's wife. She's the one he's been knockin' 'round an' braggin' 'bout," Daryl said. "Ya workin' for the asshole that done that."

Merle regarded him for a minute, but didn't say anything else. After a quiet moment, Merle nodded his head.

"Andrea's comin' up later, so don't'cha go lockin' tha door," Merle said.

Daryl had no intent of locking the door. He hadn't locked it since they'd moved in. There wasn't anything in the entire place worth more than ten bucks probably, and he didn't imagine that anyone around them had a hankering to steal their old underwear.

Merle left the kitchen without another word and Daryl heard his bedroom door close. Daryl sat there for a moment longer, lighting another cigarette. He decided that after this one he'd go to bed. He still had to work in the morning, and he wanted to be good and asleep if Andrea did come up and managed to rouse Merle from the alcohol coma he was likely to slip into.

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When Michonne got the call at her office to come down to the station, she was a little surprised. She had expected things to be calm for a few days at least. Sweet Junction just wasn't a very happening place and the Peletier scandal had been the biggest thing to happen in some time.

When she got down there, though, she was surprised to find out that the call related to the whole Peletier situation, as Rick referred to it. Apparently she needed to represent someone who was currently taking up a bench in a jail cell for assault and battery against Ed.

While Michonne was not particularly sorry to hear that someone had apparently cleaned the floor with Ed down at the construction site he was working at, what surprised her was that she didn't recognize the name.

"Merle Dixon," Rick said, leaning on the desk beside him.

"Who is Merle Dixon?" Michonne asked. Rick shrugged, making a face.

"Don't know," Rick said. "Apparently he's new to town." Michonne was thoroughly confused. Ed Peletier was a disgusting creature and could quickly get on someone's bad side, but very few people had ever really tangled with him. He'd never really started anything physical with anyone besides Carol. He tended to be a coward when the person he was pounding on didn't stand five foot six and weigh in at less than half his weight.

"Who called you?" Michonne asked. She wasn't in any particular hurry to get to her new client, at least not without exploring what Rick already knew about the situation. She didn't know what she'd be walking into when she was dealing with a man who apparently just strolled into town and assaulted someone. It was difficult to know if he had a reason for targeting Ed or if Ed had simply been the first person that he'd gotten his hands on.

"One of the guys working for Ed. Shane got out there first and pretty much had them apart when I got there," Rick said.

"Well what did they say? Why were they fighting?" Michonne asked.

Rick fumbled through some papers on his desk and came up with a file folder. He opened it and read it a moment before looking back at her. He shrugged again.

"Ed said that the man's been working for him for a couple of days," Rick said, "though I don't think they'd have much time to get to know one another because we've had Ed here."

Michonne nodded and waited for Rick to continue.

"Ed said that the man came out to the job site today and when he got there he confronted him, verbally assaulted him, and then proceeded to start a fist fight with him," Rick said. He closed the file and leaned back on the desk again. Michonne sighed.

"How much damage did he do?" Michonne asked.

Rick shrugged again.

"Hard to say, honestly. It looked like he did a number on him, but I wouldn't imagine it was anything too serious. Ed was making a scene of it, though. Demanded to go to the hospital," Rick said. Michonne scoffed without being able to stop herself.

"Of course," she said. "Look what he can do to other people, but the minute that it comes back on him it's damn near fatal."

"That's why I called _you_," Rick said. "Ed's got his lawyer already, somebody from county, some big wig. He's going to press charges and I figured it would be hard for this new comer to find a sympathetic lawyer…" He let his voice trail off.

"But because you know how bad I want to nail Ed Peletier, you thought I might like to represent the guy who beat the shit out of him," Michonne finished. She smiled at Rick. Rick returned the smile and shrugged again.

"I just figured he might stand a chance with you on the case," Rick said. "Says he's got a brother in town too, works out there with Hershel Greene."

"Get the brother," Michonne said. "See if he'll come here to talk to me. We'll at least try and get him bailed out, and I'll figure out what we're going to do from there. Can I talk to him while you're gone to Hershel's?"

"Sure," Rick said. "Jeff's here, so he can let you out whenever you're done. I'll go and see if I can't round up the brother and get him back here."

Michonne thanked Rick and followed him to the cell where her new client was sitting on a bench, his head tipped back against the wall, appearing to be daydreaming.

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When Daryl saw the police cruiser pull into the long driveway at Hershel Greene's farm, he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Even though he didn't know for sure that it was in regards to his brother, he was fairly certain it was. Merle had been especially quiet this morning. He'd been so quiet, in fact, that Daryl had been forced to make friendly conversation with Andrea while she cooked breakfast just to cut the tension.

Daryl didn't know what Merle had done. There were a number of possibilities when Merle was concerned and Daryl had been approached by the police about his brother for just about anything under the sun. Usually his favorites were DUI, drunk and disorderly, drunk in public, possession, or some kind of assault. Daryl instinctively started across the field from his current position as he saw the cruiser pull to a stop near the door of Hershel's house. From the distance he could see the officer get out of his car, put his hat on his head, and walk over to talk to Jo who was stepping outside.

Daryl watched as Jo pointed in his direction. The officer looked his way and he knew that he hadn't been wrong in assuming that he needed to begin the trek toward the man.

"Are you Daryl Dixon?" The officer asked as Daryl walked up, wiping his hands on his pants. Daryl shoved his hands in his pocket when he realized the officer wasn't going to make a move to shake one of them. He was still figuring out how this whole hospitality thing worked in Sweet Junction.

"That's me," Daryl said.

"I'm Rick Grimes, Deputy Sheriff of Sweet Junction," the officer said.

Daryl nodded his head.

"How do?" He responded. "What can I do for ya?" He was sure he already knew the answer, but if Merle was in trouble it always worked best if he managed to stay out of it.

"Is your brother Merle Dixon?" The officer asked.

Daryl nodded again.

"What'd he do?" Daryl asked.

"We've got your brother for assault and battery. I need you to come with me to handle some paperwork," Rick said.

Daryl nodded his head again and turned to Jo Greene.

"Ms. Jo, ya reckon ya can tell Hershel that I ain't likely ta be back today? I'll be back first thing in the mornin', though, an' I didn't get ta finish with them cows."

Jo nodded her head without saying anything, tugging nervously at the collar of the dress she was wearing. Daryl imagined that it wasn't a common sight at the Greene farm to see law enforcement. For him it was more or less something he expected. He was more surprised that they'd been here this many days without meeting the fine officials of the fair town.

"I got my truck here," Daryl said, "but I'll follow ya back."

Rick nodded his understanding and got back in the cruiser. Daryl got in his truck and cranked it, following the officer slowly down the back roads that led into town.

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Michonne stepped into the cell and took a seat on one of the benches. She wasn't one for pomp and circumstance in these situations and the man sitting across from her certainly didn't seem like he was one for such shows. She looked him over a moment.

The man, Merle Dixon, was filthy. That was probably owing to the fact that Shane Walsh had plucked him out of the dirt where he'd been rolling around with Ed. His hands were bloody, and she thought that she'd see to it that he at least got to clean himself up before she left. Other than his hands, however, he didn't appear to have a scratch on him besides a small crack in his lip. A lucky punch, perhaps. Michonne tried to hide her appreciation of the man for the moment.

"Who tha hell are you?" The man drawled, not lifting his head from its position against the wall.

"My name is Michonne Williams, Mr. Dixon. I'm a lawyer…your lawyer," Michonne responded. "Would you like to tell me why you attacked Ed Peletier today?"

"Ehhh…" the man drawled, "just doin' what needed ta be done, sweet cheeks," Merle said.

Michonne ignored the man's commentary. She was slowly figuring out the kind of individual she might be dealing with, but that still didn't explain entirely why he'd gone to work, presumably, and ended up sitting in a jail cell for sending Ed, whether it merited it or not, to the hospital.

"How long am I gonna be in here?" Merle asked.

"Officer Grimes has gone to get your brother," Michonne said. "You can pay the fine and be out of here this evening." Merle snickered.

"Prob'ly can't pay no fine," he said, "so just tell me how long I'ma be in here without no cash changin' hands."

"Do you have some engagement?" Michonne asked. The man seemed in one way to have no interest in moving at all, but something in his voice sounded urgent to know how long he'd sit in the jail without the ability to pay his fine.

"Just sittin' here calculatin' how long I got 'fore I can my hands on ole Ed again," Merle sneered. "See, I weren't done when the kind officer come an' snatched him 'way from me."

"Mr. Dixon," Michonne said, "I don't think it's going to help your case any if you make comments about the premeditation of another assault." Merle laughed.

"Speak English," Merle said. "I don't know nothin' 'bout no pre-med-i-ta-tion, but I do know I aim ta finish what I started."

Michonne sighed. She'd seen his kind before, but only once or twice and usually they moved on after one or two offenses.

"Mr. Dixon, why did you attack Ed Peletier?" She repeated. Merle sat up then, straightening his frame out. He snickered.

"Ya see, girlie, I don't care for men like Ed. I don't really give a turkey's ass feathers if the man likes ta drink or if'n he owes money on his gamblin' debts. That's still a man I'll have a shot or two with, but I ain't one for toleratin' a man that'll put his hands on woman, 'specially if that woman can't defend herself against 'im," Merle said. "It come to my attention that Ed was such a man, so's I figured if he liked hittin' on people so damn much, I'd give him a target his own size. Turns out Ed don't like hittin' people near as much as he thought he did."

Merle chuckled again, flexing his fingers. He leaned back against wall again and resumed his original position.

Michonne was unsure how the man knew about Ed's past with Carol, especially owing to the fact that he wasn't a native of Sweet Junction and apparently rolled into town only a few days ago, but she didn't really feel that she knew how to proceed at the moment. Clearly, legally, it wasn't permissible for this man to go about and dole out what he considered to be justice for Ed's actions, but her own internal voice was struggling because it was silently cheering him on for what he had done and regretting a little that maybe he had not finished the beating which he thought that Ed deserved…a beating he very likely _did_ deserve.

"I see," Michonne said finally, deciding to dismiss herself until she could get composure and proceed with a level head. She got up, bid him farewell for the moment, and called to Jim to let her out of the cell. She went to Rick's office and sat, waiting on him to return with the brother of this mysterious stranger who was apparently some champion to battered women's rights.

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When Rick came in leading the man that was presumably Merle Dixon's brother, Michonne stood up from the seat she had taken in Rick's chair. She walked around the desk and offered her hand to the man. She could see no clear family resemblance from the two, but it was obvious that in any case this was Merle's younger brother. He was very likely somewhere around her own age, though he had a baby face.

"I'm Michonne Williams," she said.

"Daryl Dixon," Daryl replied.

"Have a seat?" She asked. The man sat down in one of the chairs. Rick gestured to her that he was leaving the room and she nodded at him. When he was gone she took a seat in Rick's chair again.

"I'm your brother's lawyer," Michonne said.

"What'd he do?" Daryl asked. The manner in which he asked it led Michonne to believe that this was not the first time that Daryl had probably been called in about his brother's actions. She hoped that when they finally got his records that wasn't going to be too problematic if Ed pursued this.

"Your brother, it seems, attacked Ed Peletier this morning," Michonne said.

Daryl leaned back in the chair that he was sitting in and crossed one leg over the other, resting his elbow on his knee. He rested his head in his hand, but didn't look too surprised by her announcement.

"How does your brother know Mr. Peletier?" Michonne asked.

"Been workin' for him a couple days," Daryl said. "Been drinkin' with him up there at that juke joint, the Waterin' Hole."

Michonne nodded her head.

"Do you know any reason that your brother would have to want to attack Mr. Peletier?" She asked. Daryl snickered a little.

"Saw he was beatin' on his ole lady," Daryl responded. "Merle ain't never took kindly ta that kinda thing. Always said the only reason a man would hit a woman was 'cause he ain't had a set big enough ta hit a man. I reckon Merle was givin' him his chance." Michonne nodded her head again in response. "We seen his woman up there workin' at the bar, an' she's workin' at that diner in town. She ain't but a lil' bitty thing an' Merle didn't like none seein' what Ed had done ta her. I don't support Merle in a lotta the shit he does, but I gotta say I ain't against him in this one."

"I'm familiar with the situation," Michonne said. "However, everything that can be done legally is being done. Your brother, no matter how noble his intentions, cannot legally go around attacking people when he feels that they've done something wrong." Daryl snickered again.

"I reckon ya can tell him that, but it ain't never stopped Merle before," he said. Michonne sighed. Suddenly she was seeing some family resemblance between the men. Namely it was the fact that neither one of them was going to be easy to negotiate with.

"I'll do what I can if Ed presses charges and tries to take this to court," she said, "but you need to keep your brother away from him. It won't look good for him if he attacks him again."

Daryl nodded.

"I'll talk ta him," he said. "I'm afraid he's gonna have ta wait it out in here, though, 'cause we ain't got no money for bail right now. I just started workin' at Hershel Greene's farm an' if I ask him for any more money he's liable to think I'm a crook."

Michonne sighed and sat facing the man for a moment.

"I'm going to pay your brother's bail," Michonne said. "But I'm trusting you to make sure that he doesn't get into any more trouble. Whatever he does is going to end up hurting him a lot more than it's going to hurt Ed Peletier."

"Why ya gon' go an' do a think like pay Merle's bail?" Daryl asked.

Michonne swallowed, sure she'd regret her answer eventually.

"Don't repeat this, or I'll deny everything," she said, "but I think that no matter what your brother did to Ed he probably deserved worse. I don't know why your brother felt the need to do it, but I'm going to pay his bail. Just make sure he doesn't get into any more trouble or he might dig a hole for himself that I can't get him out of."

Daryl looked at her, obviously confused, but he didn't say anything else except to offer his thanks.

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"So some stranger comes riding into town and beats Ed up?" Carol asked when Michonne explained to her the craziness that had taken place during her day. "Why would he do that?"

"You know just as much as I do," Michonne said. She got the tub of ice cream out of the freezer and sat down at the dining room table with it. She was too tired to even care about getting a bowl. She wasn't surprised when Carol got a spoon and joined her from across the table. "His brother said they saw you working and this Merle fellow decided that he was going to give Ed a taste of his own medicine."

"I don't know if I even remember this person," Carol said. She'd seen so many faces in the past few days that it would be difficult to pinpoint any one or two individuals.

"Well, apparently they both remember you," Michonne said.

"And he just beat Ed up? Just like that?" Carol asked again.

"Apparently he sent him to the hospital, but I don't know how much of that is actually related to the severity of the beating and how much is just Ed being theatrical," Michonne said.

Carol took a spoonful of ice cream and sat back in the chair trying to remember if there was someone that she'd seen at both of her jobs, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. For the most part she'd been too nervous since it was the first day at each position to even pay attention to what was going on.

"Anyway, I bailed the asshole out of jail," Michonne said with a laugh.

"You bailed him out?" Carol asked.

"I figured any man that would whip Ed Peletier's ass and not even know you by name was a friend of mine," Michonne said. "I told him to stay out of trouble, but I'm not sorry that he did what he did. It needed to be done, like the man said. It was worth the bail just to know that Ed got his ass kicked."

Carol laughed in response. She thought about it a little longer and laughed again.

"I can just imagine the look on Ed's face," she said.

"I just hope he had the good common sense to tell Ed why he was whipping his ass," Michonne said. "I would hate for Ed to think it was just some random act."

"I just can't believe that some random stranger would get into a fight because of someone he saw at a bar or someone who waited on him at the diner," Carol said.

"That's what they both said," Michonne responded. "Merle and Daryl Dixon. They're brothers. I have no idea where they came from."

"Did they ride into town on white steeds?" Carol asked. Michonne snickered.

"They were in a rusty old Ford when we finally left the jail," Michonne said. "So no steeds…they were a little too rough around the edges to be considered the princes that would fight the dragon for a damsel in distress."

"Rough around the edges, maybe, but it seems like they surely tried to fight the dragon," Carol said.

She wished that she could find them, just to say thank you and show her appreciation that, even though they didn't know her, they had felt that what Ed had done to her for so many years merited at least some kind of payback. Legal or not, she was oddly pleased by the thought of Ed somewhere with a black eye or a busted lip. Even if it wasn't much, it was something, and she owed it to two invisible strangers.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Well, earlier I was sleepy and couldn't seem to focus enough to write. Then they released the Season 4 trailer and I've had to be over here freaking out about every single second of it. Now I'm wide awake, so here's a chapter. If I can get my motivation going, I might even have another to offer later. **

**I hope you enjoy!**

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"I think this is seriously the most degrading thing I've ever been asked to do," Michonne said. She was sitting in one of the dining table chairs while Carol circled around for her to shorten the jean shorts that she was wearing.

"Andrea's right," Carol said. "If I want to make the big tips, I've got to dress the part, and I need the money if I'm going to get on my feet and not spend the rest of my life living up under you."

"How much would it cost for me to buy your dignity?" Michonne asked.

"Stop it, it's just for the tips," Carol said. "I can't count on the tip fairy to drop me twenties every night."

Carol stepped forward and turned around for Michonne.

"Are they even?" She asked. Michonne judged her handiwork with the scissors.

"Pretty much," she said. "I doubt anyone at The Watering Hole will know the difference anyway."

"Are they short enough?" Carol asked. Michonne cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Unless you were going for denim underwear, they are. Speaking of underwear, do you have any others or were you just going to customize those?" Michonne said.

Carol looked down, attempting to examine herself in the shorts from all angles.

"I didn't think about that," she said. Suddenly she looked at Michonne, worried. "Shit! I didn't think about the underwear!"

"Just don't wear any," Michonne offered. It was Carol's turn to cock an eyebrow this time.

"Are you serious?" She asked. The idea of going without underwear seemed absurd to her, especially in her newly made shorts.

"You aren't telling me that you think Andrea wears underwear," Michonne said. "You can either try to make those work by hacking at them or you can go without.

Carol tried again to examine herself, ignoring the fact that she could have simply gone to the bathroom and used the mirror there for an easier time of things.

"OK, I've got to try to fix this," she said. Michonne got up from her seat and crossed the room to get the broom so she could sweep up the parts of the shorts that were lying on the floor. She passed Carol the scissors as she walked past.

"Hack up your own underwear," Michonne said. "We've all got our lines."

Carol laughed at her and went off to the bathroom to attempt to make something that would work. She didn't have long before Shane Walsh was going to stop by and pick her up. He'd offered to drive her to the Watering Hole since he was off for the night.

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Daryl was finally seeing what his first Friday night looked like in the bustling city of Sweet Junction. He got off work at the Greene farm and circled through town before taking the truck back the apartments. Town had been pretty much what he expected. A bunch of teenagers were out and about, occupying especially the parking lot outside of the A and P and hanging out at the Dairy-O. Once Daryl had parked the truck in the parking lot for the apartments, he headed straight down to the Water Ho where he was sure that Merle was likely to be.

Merle had, of course, assumed that he lost his job with Ed's company. As far as the two of them knew, Ed had not been seen since two days before when Merle let his fist be acquainted with Ed's face. Daryl wasn't sure if it had to do with the fact that Ed was avoiding Merle, that Merle was avoiding Ed, or that Ed simply didn't want to walk around town parading the black and blue proof that Merle Dixon had beat him at his own game. Daryl was curious to see if the man had the guts to show up at the Water Ho. In many ways he hoped not since he wasn't sure that either of them could keep their promise to the lawyer woman that no one would lay another hand on Ed, at least until after the court date.

Daryl slipped inside the dump which seemed to be more populated than usual. As he stepped inside he recognized immediately the office that had come to pick him up from Hershel Greene's farm. Rick had been the man's name, though Daryl couldn't remember his last name. Rick sat in one of the booths in the corner, still in uniform, and Daryl wondered if he was there to keep a check on them.

Daryl found Merle in his customary position at the bar and he pulled up a stool next to him.

"Did'ja find any work today?" Daryl asked, shaking a cigarette loose from his pack and putting the pack between the two of them as a gesture.

"Yeah," Merle drawled. "They puttin' up some kinda lil' housin' development or somethin'. Looks like a buncha damn doll houses, but I got me a job workin' down there. Ain't much, but I reckon it pays."

Daryl nodded. The promise of any income was a good thing, no matter what kind of work was tied to it. He hadn't gotten paid by Hershel today, not that he'd expected to be paid for at least a couple of weeks. The forward on his wages was going to take some time to work off.

"Place is kinda busy tonight," Daryl said, looking around. Nearly all of the tables were full and there were more men than usual congregating around the pool tables. Down from them at the bar sat a few others, and the bar was normally pretty empty.

"Friday night, lil' brothah, everyone done come out ta paint tha town," Merle said.

Daryl couldn't help but notice that his brother seemed in high spirits, even though he had no idea why. It wasn't like they had all that much to be jolly about. Andrea was there, he spotted her talking to a bunch of men who had attempted to crowd far too many people at one table. She was sitting on the lap of one of the men. He turned back to see if Merle had noticed, but if he had, his brother didn't care.

"Ya girl's over there sittin' on that asshole's lap an' rubbin' her tits in his face," Daryl said, trying to see if Merle was simply oblivious.

"My girl?" Merle asked, pouring himself another shot. He turned around on the stool and looked around the room.

"Andrea," Daryl said.

"Ain't my girl," Merle said.

"She done made us breakfast for at least the last three days, I reckon she's ya girl," Daryl said. Merle chuckled.

"Nah, ya gotta lot ta learn, lil' brothah. Andrea ain't my girl. Ain't got no interest in no damn ball an' chain, an' she knows that. Ain't my place ta tell her what she can do no way," Merle said. He took one of Daryl's cigarettes and lit it, puffing on it and turning his attention to something else.

Daryl watched Andrea a moment more. He didn't understand his brother sometimes. In his opinion, if a woman was sleeping in his bed every night and cooking him breakfast in the morning, he'd think she was his woman. He'd expect her to be his woman, but Merle wasn't like that. Most of the time Merle didn't even want them staying until breakfast. It was likely that the only reason he didn't run Andrea off was that she made it just as clear as he did that they weren't nothing more than friends…friends that made God awful noises and tried to keep him up at night.

While Daryl was pondering the confusing relationship beliefs and practices of his older brother, he noticed the Carol woman come walking through the door, closely followed by a man who split off from her and took his seat with the police officer he knew as Rick.

Carol didn't look like she had the other night, or even like she had at the diner. She was wearing a tank top with her breasts all pushed up like Andrea liked doing, and she had on a pair of jean shorts that hardly covered a think. Daryl wouldn't have been sure it was the same woman except for the fact that the bruises, which she no longer seemed to be trying to hide, were still there.

She walked in the door smiling, almost laughing, as though she were still recovering from the residue of some joke shared just outside the door with the man that followed her inside. Daryl let his eyes trail over to the man and didn't miss that he was watching Carol walk away with some interest. Carol stopped a moment to speak to Andrea and then made her way around the bar, tucking her purse into one of the cabinets. She walked up and stood in front of Merle and Daryl.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked.

Merle picked up the bottle of whiskey that was in front of him and examined the contents for a moment. Daryl looked at Carol, then at Merle, and then back at Carol. For whatever reason, whether it was the bruises or the intensity with which she was looking between the two of them, waiting for an answer, she made Daryl uncomfortable. The feeling was further compounded by the fact that her breasts were pushed up and almost out of the top of her tank top and Daryl caught himself glancing at them despite his resolve not to look at them. He turned his attention back to Merle.

"Weelll, sugah," Merle drawled, a slight smile crossing his lips. "Looks like this bottle's a little musty."

Carol looked at him a moment, confused.

"I think we musty have some more," Merle said.

Carol smiled at his joke and he returned the smile. She looked under the bar and came up with another half used bottle, putting it in front of him.

"Do you have a tab?" She asked.

"Andrea's takin' care of it," Merle said. "Don't'cha worry 'bout it, we'll square it up 'fore we go."

Carol looked in Andrea's direction and Daryl assumed that Andrea must have signaled that she was keeping track of Merle's intake because Carol didn't say anything else about it. She turned briefly to him then.

"You drinking whiskey too, or you need something else?" She asked.

For a moment Daryl locked eyes with her. He could have sworn that her eyes were twinkling. She looked so damn happy that he couldn't figure it out. Merle looked happy tonight, Andrea looked like she was on fucking cloud nine, and now here was this Carol woman in front of him, still looking like she lost a bad bar brawl, and she looked just as happy as a lark. Daryl couldn't figure out what was in the water around this place, but there had to be something.

When Carol raised her eyebrows at him and leaned forward a little more, Daryl realized that he'd never answered her question.

"I'm fine," he grunted, going for his cigarettes to give him a reason not to look at the redhead in front of him.

Carol lingered a moment longer and then she straightened up.

"OK, then, you boys let me know if you need anything," she said. She walked off then to go and check on some of the other patrons.

"Mmmm…" Merle said, after a moment, catching Daryl's attention. "Not a bad lil' number…still can't stand ta look at her fuckin' face, though, an' that's makin' it hard to get a good look at them tits." He leaned around a bit. "Don't take nothin' away from that ass, though."

Daryl glanced in her direction and then felt himself blushing over the fact that he was looking at her ass as she leaned over one of the tables taking the drink orders of three men.

"Don't be such a pig, Merle," Daryl growled, trying to cover up the fact that he'd looked as well. Merle chuckled at him.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with appreciatin' what the good Lord gave 'em, Derlina," Merle said. He poured Daryl another shot. "Ya ain't drunk enough or ya'd be lookin' too."

Daryl took the shot, but turned around on his stool to face out to the crowd instead of allowing his eyes to drift back over to Carol. He studied the police officer for a moment. He appeared not to be paying them any attention at all. The man who had come in with Carol was sitting with him, laughing about something and talking with his hands. They were apparently friends, but then Daryl had already figured out that in Sweet Junction most everybody was friends.

As Daryl was sitting, leaning against the bar, he saw Carol make her way down toward the officers. She stopped there for a moment, sliding into the booth next to the man that was talking to Rick. Daryl watched her smiling and chatting with them. Then, she leaned into the table a little, Rick speaking to her, and Daryl noticed Rick turn and glance in his direction. He quickly tried to turn his head to hide the fact that he'd been staring, searching suddenly in the room for Andrea or any other somewhat familiar face he could find.

Daryl turned around on his stool then and resumed his position staring at the bar. Two stools down from him, now, was a man that he didn't know, but the man was watching them both with some interest.

"Can I help ya?" Daryl finally asked, pushed by the unashamed staring.

The man somewhat craned around Daryl as though he was trying to get a better look at Merle.

"Is that man's name Merle?" The man asked. Daryl looked at him and then elbowed Merle to get his attention. Merle was busy ogling Andrea's ass from a distance.

"What tha hell is it?" He asked, turning.

"This man here, wants ta know if ya name is Merle," Daryl said. He wasn't sure what reason the man would have to be asking, so he wasn't offering any information until he knew. The Dixons had a tendency to end up in the bad graces of nearly every town they passed through, and Daryl was simply waiting for Sweet Junction to be the same way. He realized that not everyone might agree with Merle's decision to pound on Ed Peletier, and he'd rather avoid a bar fight if possible, especially with the Deputy Sheriff sitting just a few feet away.

Merle leaned his elbow on the bar, in an attempt to see the man.

"Yeah…" Merle drawled, "I'm Merle, who wants ta know?"

The man chuckled.

"Your workin' down there in that new housin' development they're putting up off of Vine. I saw you today, but I didn't get a chance to talk to you. Name's Theodore, but everyone around here calls me T-Dog," the man reached out a hand around Daryl and Daryl leaned back, feeling that he wasn't exactly invited to be part of this exchange.

Merle looked at T-Dog for a moment and chewed on the toothpick lodged in the side of his mouth. Finally he extended his hand and shook T-Dog's.

"This here's my brothah," Merle said. "Daryl."

"How ya doin', man?" T-Dog asked, smiling at Daryl. Daryl nodded at him. "Listen, is it true what they were saying today? Were you the one that beat up Ed Peletier?"

"News sure travels fast, don't it?" Merle mused. T-Dog chuckled again.

"Man, you have no idea. News big as that travels so fast you'll probably hear about it before you've even done it if you listen hard enough," he responded. "It's been a long time comin', though. I used to work for him. Sorry son of a bitch. Probably owes me two or three paychecks I'll never see."

"Yeah, well I had a debt fer him ta pay, but it weren't that one," Merle said. Daryl lit another cigarette and leaned his elbows on the bar.

"I hear ya," T-Dog said. "Well listen, man, if you need anything, just let me know. I've been working with Lester Jones' company for a couple of years now. You're going to like working with him. Sometimes we have to go a little out of town for work, but there's always a paycheck coming in."

Merle nodded at the man and watched as Andrea served him another beer. T-Dog took the beer and passed a couple of bills into Andrea's hands. Then he got up from his bar stool and clapped Merle on the back.

"Take it easy, man," he said. "See ya Monday."

Merle grunted his response and Daryl watched as T-Dog walked off, presumably to join another group somewhere in the bar.

"Friendly folks 'round here," Daryl said.

"Small town hospitality," Andrea said, leaning in front of them then. "Everybody knows everybody, and they want to know anyone they don't already know. It's good and it's bad, depending on how you look at it. Lots of people to talk to, but there are no secrets in Sweet Junction. As many people that talk to you will talk _about_ you in a heartbeat."

Andrea reached under the bar and came up with a damp rag. She started wiping the bar from her side, and Daryl reached over and held up the ashtray and whiskey bottle in front of them so that she could wipe under it. She didn't say anything to him, and he kept his silence as well.

Just as Andrea moved down the bar a piece, Carol walked up, depositing some empty glasses in the tub they kept on the edge of the bar. She walked over to where Daryl now knew they kept their tip jars hidden and emptied her pockets. She wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, she was wearing the same facial expression she had the first night and looked as though she might hyperventilate at any moment. After she'd deposited her tips, she glanced in his direction and lowered her eyes again, pretending to be occupied with something else under the bar. Finally she stepped in front of him and Merle again.

"Good on whiskey?" She asked, the smile gone from her face.

"Yeah," Merle said. "Reckon we'll be headin' out 'fore too long. Don't wanta close the place down."

She nodded her head and remained there, quiet for a moment. Finally she leaned in a little.

"Are you Merle Dixon?" She asked.

Daryl looked at Merle then. He lifted the shot glass to his mouth and sucked down half the shot, continuing to hold the glass between his pointer finger and thumb as though he were considering whether or not he wanted the rest of it. Merle didn't respond verbally, but he did nod. His own face mirrored hers now in that neither of them were smiling like they had been earlier in the evening.

"I'm Carol Peletier," she said. She cast a nervous glance at Daryl then. "Daryl Dixon?" She asked.

Daryl nodded.

Carol swallowed and Daryl felt sorry for her based solely on the expression she was wearing. He had no idea what she was trying to say, but it was clear that it wasn't coming easy for her.

"I don't know how to say this," she said finally, "but I wanted to say thank you."

Daryl looked at Merle again. Merle finished the shot in his hand and put the glass down. Carol stood there a moment, looking back and forth between the two of them. She suddenly picked the bottle of whiskey up and uncorked it, moving to pour Merle another shot. Merle reached out and caught her wrist. Daryl noticed that she jerked a little, and then froze, her eyes going to Merle's.

"Ya ain't gotta thank me fer doin' somethin' I did fer myself," Merle said. He let go of her wrist and she stayed frozen for a moment before refilling his shot glass. She immediately moved to fill Daryl's as well. Though he didn't really want any more whiskey, he didn't protest. After she'd filled the glasses, she looked at them both again. Daryl noticed that Merle wasn't paying her any attention any longer, but for a moment he accidentally locked eyes with her. She was wide eyed and staring at him as though she were going to ask him something, but she never did. He held the gaze for a moment until she finally broke it, turning her attention to corking the bottle and replacing it in front of Merle.

"All the same," she said softly, "thank you."

Since Merle obviously had no intention of addressing her, Daryl nodded his head at her and offered her a slight smile. She looked like she needed some sort of reassurance, though he wasn't entirely sure why. She offered him a soft smile in return. Then without explanation she sighed and smoothed the material of her tank top.

"OK," she said, nodding. "OK. If you boys need anything, just let me know," she said. She walked away quickly then, and Daryl let his eyes trail after her for just a moment.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: OK, so it's very late, but I did get a second chapter out. I may update this tomorrow, but there are no promises. I'd like to try to update my other fics too tomorrow. I'm planning on spending a significant amount of the day in my pajamas simply writing fanfic.**

**I hope you like it! As always, thank you for your reviews and your support of the story. It means a lot to know that you're reading and enjoying what you read! **

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Daryl didn't have to work on the weekend and he was glad of it. Hershel was a man that believed in making the most of a day, that was sure, and Daryl was glad for the vacation he got. When he got out of bed he made his way into the kitchen expecting to find Andrea in there making breakfast, but she wasn't. He checked Merle's room and found it empty. They'd gone somewhere, though he didn't know if they were together or not. Daryl dressed and slipped back into the kitchen. He noticed the truck keys were gone and simply hoped that Merle wasn't getting into any trouble.

He considered cereal, but then he remembered that Lula's Diner boasted to have some pretty good omelets, so he decided on that instead. He slipped down the rickety staircase and out the door. It wasn't late, but already the sun was hot and Daryl decided this wasn't a day for doing much, though he didn't exactly relish the idea of staying in their apartment. The place smelled funny and it wasn't like there was anything to offer entertainment there. That was most likely why Andrea and Merle were nowhere to be found.

Daryl made his way down the street toward the diner. As usual the town looked pretty much deserted. It appeared that most people here didn't go out much, but then again many of them probably didn't live in small apartments that were pretty much empty and smelled like goat piss.

Daryl's first thought when he pulled open the door to Lula's Diner and stepped inside was that the clientele for the morning looked like the residents of an old folk's home. Daryl glanced around quickly and decided he was the only person there under the age of sixty, and it appeared that those that probably fell around the sixties mark were the "whippersnappers" of the bunch.

Daryl slid into one of the booths and saw Jacqui heading toward him. He wasn't quite sure why, but he had hoped that Carol might be working that morning. Still, if she hadn't left the Water Ho until Andrea left she wasn't likely to even be awake at this hour, so he could see why she might not be working.

"Mornin', hon'!" Jacqui said, walking up to the table. Daryl offered her a smile. "How's Sweet Junction treating you so far?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Alright, I guess," he said.

"Daryl, right? Lula told me what your name was since you didn't drop it the last time you were in here. I heard you were working for Hershel Greene," Jacqui said. Daryl nodded in response. "The Greene's are good people."

"Yeah, they are," Daryl responded. He really wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. He felt like everyone and everything around here was scripted. It was as if, somewhere along the line, everyone got some kind of guide that told them everything they were supposed to know about Sweet Junction. It apparently contained the names and complete histories of everyone who lived there along with exactly what to say in any given situation and even what to order when you wanted food. Daryl couldn't feel more out of place at times.

"What can I get for ya this morning? Coffee?" Jacqui asked, still smiling.

"Yeah," Daryl said. He looked around as though he were searching for a menu of some sort, but none had been offered to him, and he didn't see any around. "What kinda omelet is the best?" He asked.

"That would be the omelet all the way," Jacqui said. "It's got everything you could ever want on an omelet. Really sticks to your ribs."

"Gimme that," Daryl said. "An' some hash browns, but I don't want no onions on nothin'."

Jacqui smiled again.

"Got it, no onions," she said. "Anything else?"

Daryl thought about it, but off the top of his head he couldn't come up with any other breakfast food that he felt would be appropriate with an omelet that obviously contained everything imaginable and potatoes that very likely were the same way. Finally he just shook his head and watched as Jacqui headed off to the back of the diner.

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"Can we at least talk about this?" Michonne asked, following Carol around the apartment. Shane Walsh had brought Carol home very late the night before and Michonne hadn't expected her up before lunch time, yet she'd been up bright and early with the request that Michonne take her to look at an apartment that she was hoping to rent, and maybe that she help her move her things there should she decide to take the place.

Now they were standing in the living room of one of the apartments of Sweet Junction Apartments, and Michonne was afraid to touch anything. She was even a little concerned that her shoes had to touch the floor. Honestly this was the kind of place that you would have preferred to have the ability to hover in.

"It's not that bad," Carol said, looking around.

"Are you feeling alright?" Michonne asked.

"They're cheap," Carol said.

"And rightly so," Michonne responded. "Carol, right now I'm wondering why this building hasn't been condemned. Why don't you just stay with me for a while longer? Ed's getting the divorce papers soon, and then we'll go to court. You're going to get money out of this, Carol. You don't have to live in a place like this. There are some real nice houses being built in that new development. You could get a place there. You'd be close to me, you'd be in the _nice _part of town."

"Michonne, we don't know that I'm going to get anything at all from Ed, and if I don't, I'll be OK," Carol said, her hands going to her hips. "You're real sweet, and I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I don't feel right taking advantage of you."

"I don't consider it taking advantage, Carol, not when I'm offering it," Michonne said. "And I don't feel comfortable with you living over here. I don't even feel comfortable with you working over there at that roadhouse down the street unless Rick or Shane or one of their boys can be there. Ed's dangerous, and he's unpredictable. Who's to say he won't pay you a visit here?"

Carol smiled.

"Who's to say he won't pay me a visit at your house?" She asked. "And there you could get hurt, or your girls. I wouldn't want that on my conscience."

"And I don't want you living _here_ on mine," Michonne argued.

"You said yourself that I've got my whole life ahead of me," Carol said. "You said this was a new start for me, and it is. I spent my life depending on my parents, and when I was old enough, I married Ed. Now that I've left Ed I can't just spend my life living up under you."

"But Carol, here? Have you even been vaccinated for all the kinds of hepatitis you could probably catch here?" Michonne asked. Carol smiled again.

"You can't be my mother," Carol said. "I've got to grow up sometime."

Michonne wrinkled her eyebrows and looked around. On the one hand, she understood that Carol was on some kind of high from being free from Ed. She had some newfound freedom that she'd never enjoyed before and she wanted to spread her wings. Michonne could only imagine what that felt like. Her experience with spreading her wings had been different. She'd left Sweet Junction right after high school to go to college and only returned years later with a degree in hand and the respect of the townspeople. Carol's story was different. She was that girl who never left the small town. She stayed to take care of her parents, neither of which was in the best health for what seemed like a very long time, and then she stayed because she married Ed. Her legacy since then had been to be the woman that everyone whispered about at the A and P and avoided making eye contact with whenever possible. Now she wanted independence. On the other hand, however, Michonne couldn't bear to think of someone she now regarded as a friend, and a good person, living in the filth that she saw around her.

"Carol, this place is disgusting, and don't tell me you don't see it. I'm not saying you stay with me forever, I'm just saying that you stay with me until you can afford the down payment on a place that you can stay in without collecting rent from the roaches," Michonne said.

"So I'll clean it up," Carol said. "I have to have something to do with my weekend. I don't work at Lula's again until Monday and I'm off from the Water Ho until Wednesday," Carol said.

"What about the girls?" Michonne asked. She was hoping, suddenly, that she could use Carol's soft spot for the babies as a way to lure her away from her plan to live in the dump.

"What about them?" Carol asked.

"You said you were going to watch them when you didn't have to work and they weren't with Dean," Michonne said.

"So I can still watch them," Carol said.

"And how do you think you're going to get to my house?" Michonne asked.

"I'll walk, Michonne. People have been doing it for ages," Carol responded. She walked over to one of the chairs at the so called kitchen table and sat down. Michonne cringed at the very thought of even sitting in one of them.

"Carol, that's almost five miles," Michonne said. "You can't walk five miles in one direction on a regular basis. Besides, that's not safe at all. Suppose Ed were to spot you just walking down the road alone?"

"What am I supposed to do, Michonne?" Carol asked. "Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life cowering up under you or Rick or Shane? I can't do that either. I'll get a car as soon as I can find one that I can afford. Until then a little exercise never hurt anyone."

"Fine," Michonne said, deciding to change her strategy a little, "what about me, then?"

"What about you?" Carol asked.

"I've grown somewhat fond of having you as a roommate during the past days that you've been with me," Michonne said. "I'm really not ready for you to leave. I'd rather you stay with me while you're saving up for a decent place. You're good company, it's convenient having an in-home nanny when I'm at work, and if you leave now and you're staying somewhere like this I'm going to be distracted because I'm going to be worried about you. You're just being selfish if you decide to go through with this ridiculous idea."

"I think you'll be just fine," Carol said, smiling, "and so will I. I can still watch the girls and it's not like I'm moving to the moon. I'm going to be right here, just barely across town. I'm not trying to be _selfish_, I'm trying to be _self-sufficient_."

Michonne sighed. It was fairly clear that she wasn't going to win this battle. She was proud that Carol wanted to be on her own. It meant she wasn't going to fall into that age old cycle where the victim never really gets over being a victim and simply relies on others to care for their wounds for the rest of their lives, but Michonne had to admit that she'd really rather _this_ not be the place that Carol picked to live on her own for the first time. Still, she knew that Carol wasn't going to accept any more monetary help from her.

"Fine, if you're determined to do this then let's at least go back to my house. I want to change clothes, and we can get your things while we're there," Michonne said.

"Change clothes?" Carol asked.

"Well I certainly hope you don't think I'm letting you move in here until we've cleaned this place up," Michonne said, looking around again. Carol grinned at her and for a moment she thought she might squeal with excitement. Michonne had no idea how someone could be so happy about moving into a garbage heap like this, but at least if she was going to do it Michonne wanted to feel like they'd done their best to make it livable.

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After Daryl finished breakfast he strolled around town for a little, checking out the side roads and the shops and businesses available. For the size of the town there were a variety of stores, but many of them were the kinds of places that he would never go. He did discover that there was a movie theater. It was tiny, and it was the kind of place where Daryl assumed your feet would stick to the floor as you walked, but it did advertise that movies were only a dollar. He looked at the sign that advertised the two movies that were showing. He hadn't ever heard of either of them, but that wasn't really surprising since he wasn't one to watch much television. There had been one in his house when he was a kid, but he never got to choose what was they watched, so he never paid it much attention. Since he'd grown up, though, he and Merle had never opted to own one of the things. It was an expense that wasn't necessary, and living as they often did there wasn't room for much that wasn't necessary.

Still, Daryl thought the movies was surely a way to pass some time every now and again in the sleepy little town. There was also a bowling alley. When Daryl passed by it, looking briefly into the windows, he could see more than a handful of teenagers inside and what looked to be a few small families. It was adjoined with a skating rink, so Daryl assumed that this was probably the most happening place if you wanted to have a real wild time in Sweet Junction.

Beyond that, as Daryl strolled he saw a few more restaurants and even a little café for anyone that was interested in that kind of place, but really nothing more in the way of entertainment. He found a nice park and he started across it. There were families there, some of them had children that were playing a nice little playground area set up for them. Daryl found a spot under a tree where a stone bench was in place and sat down, taking out one of his cigarettes.

He felt like he'd drawn a lot of attention. There had been several people that he'd encountered on his stroll that had stared at him, some even suspiciously, and he had no idea why. He didn't know if they were just generally distrustful of anyone they didn't know, or if he was correct in assuming that the Dixon reputation always got ahead of them, or at the very least, always caught up with them. They seldom made what anyone would call "friends" in the places they lived. That was somewhat owing to the fact that they never spent any real significant time in one place, but it was also owing to the fact that it seemed like people were always looking at him and Merle as though they were dangerous or at the very least untrustworthy.

The truth was they were relatively harmless. They had a few rough patches in their life, and finances had never really been in their favor, and it could be said that Merle liked his substances and was sometimes prone to violence against those who would start it, but neither of them were half as much the trouble makers as it seemed they were doomed to be viewed as. Even sitting in the park Daryl felt as though some of the eyes of the people there were on him. Two mothers who were watching their kids swing nearby watched him as though he were going to spring up suddenly and run off with their snotty nosed kids. How were you ever expected to make friends anywhere when you couldn't get past those stares that came at you unwarranted?

Daryl ignored the women and focused on his cigarette, looking out over the park. He hadn't seen the truck anywhere on his stroll through town and he could only assume that Merle had gone off somewhere else. Maybe he was sightseeing with Andrea, or maybe they were just parking off some back road. Whatever the case, at least Merle wasn't in town starting any kind of ruckus that might get them drummed out of Sweet Junction before they'd even gotten remotely settled in.

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Michonne convinced Carol to at least let her get the apartment set up with the basics. She'd reluctantly accepted Michonne's offer to get her some towels, sheets, and dishes. Michonne had also convinced her to let her purchase a new mattress for her, arguing that she wasn't going to let her back in her house to care for the girls otherwise because she'd be bringing the entire flea population of the old mattress with her. Michonne had finally gotten her to stop worrying about her ever growing debt when she convinced her that she could pay her back for all of it as soon as they drained Ed of every red penny that she possibly could squeeze out of him.

They'd scrubbed every square inch of the apartment by the time that Michonne was satisfied that Carol could at least live there without contracting any serious and incurable diseases. Both of them were exhausted, that much was true, but the place did look a lot better with the few homey touches that they introduced to it, and it was clean at the very least. The smell that had been overpowering was now replaced with the lemony-pine scent of the numerous cleaners they'd employed.

Michonne waited around for the landlord to meet them and Carol signed the papers and paid the fees. She was officially a tenant of the cleanest apartment in Sweet Junction Apartments. Michonne watched her as a smile spread across her face after the landlord bid her farewell.

"We're getting you a phone immediately," Michonne said. She'd purchased a phone for the apartment, but besides water and electricity there was nothing else hooked up.

"I'm sure they can hook it up first thing on Monday," Carol said.

Michonne shook her head.

"No, if you're going to stay here even a night you're not staying without a phone. You couldn't even call the police if Ed were to show up," Michonne said. "I'm going to make a few calls. They'll have one hooked up today. I'll tell them it's a court order. You can't be under protection and not have a phone."

"Fine," Carol said. "You stay here, make the calls. I'll go bring the rest of my things up."

Michonne had intended to help Carol unload her things from the car, but she wanted to make the calls and Carol didn't seem deterred by the labor, so she sat down on the chair in the kitchen, which they had disinfected thoroughly, and thumbed through the contacts in her cell phone to make sure that Carol could be as safe as possible since she insisted on staying there.

Carol watched her a moment and then disappeared out the door to bring up the few bags and other belongings that she had, along with the groceries that Michonne had made her purchase so that her cabinets and refrigerator wouldn't be completely bare.

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When Daryl got back to the apartment building he noticed that the truck was still gone. At this point he gave up any hope that his brother would be back at all during the day. Wherever they'd run off to they were likely to stay for what remained of this fine Saturday, and then of course they would both most likely waste away the hours of the evening and night down at the Water Ho.

Daryl trotted up the stairs without paying much attention and very nearly ran into the person that was just in front of him. He stopped suddenly, surprised by the simple fact that there was someone there. He knew he had upstairs neighbors because they could hear them stomping about so much that he figured they were housing a miniature horse in their apartment. He'd never actually _seen_ any of his neighbors though. They were like noisy ghosts. They could hear them, but they never seemed to actually emerge from their hiding places.

"I'm sorry," Daryl apologized to the woman. It was only after apologizing to her, though, that he really looked at her. He was immediately shocked to realize that it was Carol. She was making her way up the stairs, attempting to drag two suitcases. She stopped when Daryl apologized and looked at him.

"No, I'm sorry," she said. Then she took a double take and silently regarded him for a moment. "Oh," she said, "hi again."

"Hi," Daryl said. They remained frozen for a moment, her standing in the position of making a step, and him standing firmly two steps below her. "Uh, ya movin' in?" He asked finally.

"Yeah," she said. Daryl thought a hint of a smile crossed her face and he couldn't imagine anyone smiling about moving into the shithole apartments here.

Daryl got himself together and stepped up the few steps, closing the gap between them. He reached and grabbed the handle of the suitcase nearest him.

"Lemme help ya," he said. She didn't immediately let go of the handle or move in any way.

"No," she said, "I've got it, I'm fine. I'm just on the second floor."

"Lemme help ya," Daryl repeated. He tugged at the suitcase and she reluctantly let go of the handle. "I'm on the second floor too," Daryl said.

"Thank you," Carol said.

"Ain't no problem," Daryl responded. He heaved up the suitcase, marveling for a moment at the weight of it for such a seemingly small bag. "I can get the other one for ya if ya like," he offered.

"No, really," she said. "It's not that heavy."

Daryl took up the bag he had and finished carrying it up the stairs. Carol followed behind him carrying the other suitcase.

"I'm just there," Carol said when they were on the second floor. "I'm thirteen," she said. "Lucky number thirteen."

Daryl snickered.

"I'm just across the hall," he said.

"Really?" Carol asked. She looked like she didn't believe him at first and Daryl wondered if people made it a habit to like about which rodent infested apartment they called home.

"Really," he assured. He followed Carol into her apartment so that he could put the bag down. As soon as they stepped inside he was struck by a few things. The very first thing that struck him was the smell. Her apartment smelled nice, and that was something that couldn't be said for his. The second thing that struck him when he glanced around was that the apartment _looked_ nice, at least a lot nicer than his own. It looked clean and there were decorations here and there. He assumed that's what happened when women lived in apartments, especially if those women weren't Andrea. The final thing that struck him was the fact that Merle's lawyer was sitting at the small table in the kitchen. She was talking on the phone, but when they walked in she glanced up. She froze for a moment and then resumed her conversation.

Daryl followed Carol through the apartment and put the suitcase in the bedroom where she directed him to put it. Her bedroom was the one that matched his own in his apartment, assuming that you flipped his apartment around as though you were looking in a mirror. Her entire place was backwards from the one that he and Merle shared. He glanced around the room momentarily after he put the bag down. The bed was made with sheets and blankets and pillows. Much more inviting than the bare mattress that he was currently sleeping on.

"Ya place looks real nice," Daryl said, starting back through the apartment behind Carol.

"Thank you," she said. "We've been working on it all day long."

When they got back into the kitchen, the lawyer had stood up.

"Michonne," Carol said, "this is…"

"Daryl Dixon," Michonne said, interrupting Carol. "How are you, Daryl?"

"Fine," Daryl said.

"Daryl lives across the hall," Carol said. "He was nice enough to help me carry my bags up."

"Ya got anythin' else?" Daryl asked, suddenly wishing he could escape the apartment and the two women.

Carol shook her head.

"Nope, that's it," she said. "I brought everything else up earlier. There really wasn't all that much."

"Then I reckon I'ma get outta your hair," Daryl said. He nodded at Michonne and stopped just before stepping out the open door of the apartment. "Uh, if ya need anythin', just remember that we're right across the hall," he said. He wasn't really sure why he said it. It wasn't an offer he'd normally make to a person who was essentially a complete stranger to him, but it had felt like the right thing to say.

"Thank you, Daryl," Carol said.

"No problem," he responded. "See ya," he said to both of them. Then he stepped out of the apartment and crossed the hall. Opening the door to his own apartment he lamented momentarily that it wasn't of the same quality as the one he'd just left. He stepped inside and closed the door. He'd gone to the diner this morning not knowing quite why he hoped to see the redhead waitressing there, and he'd come home to find that she was moving in just across the hall from the shitty apartment he now resided in. Daryl wasn't sure why, but he was nervous to think of her there, and to think about the fact that he'd very likely be seeing more of her now, even more than he'd simply have seen at the diner or on random nights down at the Water Ho.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: So once again it's very late here, but I wanted to get a chapter out for this. This means I got a chapter out for three fics today. It's not the best I've ever done, but it's nothing to sneeze at. Tomorrow I've got a lot of stuff that's got to get done, so I'm not sure how much time I'll have for writing. If I get a chance, though, I'll try to get another chapter out for something.**

**I hope you enjoy! As always, I appreciate all of my readers! Let me know what you think! **

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On Tuesday morning Carol woke up very early. She was supposed to watch Michonne's girls and she argued with Michonne for a substantial amount of time over the phone the night before. She wasn't going to have Michonne loading the girls in the car before they had to be awake, driving all the way over to pick her up, and then taking her back to her house to unload the babies before Michonne even had to be at work. That was just too much. Carol insisted on walking, and she had continued to insist on it until Michonne had finally given in.

Carol wasn't sure how long it would take her to get to Michonne's house by foot. She considered that it would probably quite a long walk, but she'd never actually checked to see how far away it was or how long it took her to walk anywhere. She wasn't even positive that she'd actually walked that far in one straight shot at any given time. She walked to Lula's Diner the morning before, but that was a short walk, nothing like the hike she was attempting this morning.

Carol dressed and put her sneakers on, sure that anything else would be entirely impractical. She picked up the phone and dialed Michonne's number. When Michonne answered, before the first ring had even completed itself, it was obvious that she was still asleep. Carol hated waking her up, but that had been one of Michonne's stipulations to her plan. She wanted to know what time she left so that she could try to calculate what time she should arrive. Carol had no idea how Michonne intended to that, since she had no idea herself when she'd arrive, but Michonne was a person who needed control and needed a lot of it, so Carol wasn't going to fight about whether or not she'd call her when she was about to start her journey.

After a brief conversation, Carol hung up the phone and left the apartment, locking the door behind her. She eased down the steps to the building, feeling her way more than anything. There was no light in the stairwell and it was still dark outside, so there was no light filtering in from there either.

As soon as she was on the street and headed in the direction of Michonne's house, Carol began to feel nervous. There wasn't anybody out and about at this hour and she felt very alone walking down the sidewalk. For a moment she cursed herself, and then she cursed Ed. Sweet Junction was her home. It had always been her home. Yet now she felt uneasy just walking down the sidewalk simply because it was dark. She'd never been afraid of the dark before, but now she was.

The fear of the dark was something that had surprised her. She'd never realized it was there until Saturday night when she'd settled into her apartment and locked the door behind Michonne, promising not to leave for any reason and to call if she needed anything at all. She'd been thrilled with her apartment at first that night. She'd walked around the entire thing, touching nearly everything, thankful that Michonne had insisted in purchasing a few small items to set around and decorate the place with so that it felt more like a home, more like _her_ home. Then, however, it had gotten late and it had gotten quiet. The only sounds that Carol could hear that night were some strange stomping sounds coming presumably from the apartments above her, and the occasional voice or noise in the hallway outside the door.

And that was when she realized she was afraid of the dark. As she'd made her way from one room to the other, attempting to keep her mind entertained so that she wouldn't dwell on any unpleasant thoughts, she'd realized that she was afraid of going into any room if the light wasn't on first. She'd surprised herself, almost as if she didn't even know she was doing it, when she realized that she was snaking her hand around the bedroom wall and the bathroom wall each time she got ready to enter the room and searching for the switch to bathe the room in light before she passed into it. She wasn't exactly sure what she was afraid to find there, but she couldn't control the part of her that panicked now when faced by a dark room.

And now the whole town was dark, and it was eerie. Carol took a few deep breaths as she walked and tried to calm herself. She didn't want to be afraid. She especially didn't want to be afraid of things that she couldn't even identify. Before, when she'd been with Ed, she'd felt like she always knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid of hearing his car in the driveway. She was afraid of hearing him slam the front door because he only slammed it when he was drunk or when he was angry and neither scenario meant good things for her. She was afraid of _him_, and the smell of hard liquor on his breath, and the pain she knew was coming when he looked at her in certain ways. Those had been things that she had been afraid of, but she'd known what they were, and she'd known why they struck terror in her heart. Now, however, it seemed she was doomed to be afraid of the dark and she had no understanding of why.

Out here, at least, she could argue that she might be afraid that Ed was there, that he was hiding in the dark somewhere and watching her. Maybe he was plotting some revenge against her, and she was legitimately afraid of that. She was afraid that he would be furious when he received the divorce papers and that he might try to beat her, or even worse. That could explain her fear of Sweet Junction bathed in the dark, but it couldn't explain her fear of her own apartment. The door and windows were locked. No one passed in or out without her knowledge. There was no reason at all to believe that Ed was inside her apartment, that he might be lurking in the bathroom or in her bedroom waiting for her. There it was all her imagination.

As Carol continued walking she tried to think of any happy thought that she could to chase away the fear that was growing inside her without her permission. She thought about her apartment and the things that she might eventually purchase to make it even homier. She thought about the possibility of getting a pet, someone to keep her company in her little place and curl up with her at night. She thought about when she'd be able to take the next steps in her new life and she'd buy a little house to call her own and a car to drive so that she didn't have to walk everywhere and didn't have to feel guilty about inconveniencing others. But the thought of the car only led her thoughts in a loop right back to the fact that she was walking alone, and even though the sun was beginning to come up over the horizon and it was spilling some of it's light around her, it still wasn't as light out as she wanted it to be. She tried to speed her steps, sure that the faster she moved, the more likely she was to outrun her fear.

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Daryl was bitter this morning. He'd woken up expecting breakfast at the very least. Andrea had stayed the night again, though she and his brother both would protest if he were suggest that this was a regular thing. He was quite sure that even if she were to arrive at their house with a few cardboard boxes holding whatever she might own, they would both say that there was nothing going on between them besides the casual fuck. And maybe there wasn't, but he felt like casual fucking was leading to a lot of slumber parties, and for the life of him he couldn't remember his brother ever having had a woman spend the night before unless they'd both been so damn drunk that they'd passed out. And even then it had only been a night at the most, and there was no breakfast in the morning. That wasn't what Daryl was seeing here.

This morning, though, Andrea hadn't made breakfast. She'd come into the kitchen as Daryl was tying his shoes and she'd been already dressed, though she didn't exactly look as though she was awake for any stretch of the imagination. Merle had stumbled in after, dressed as well, except for the boots that he carried in his hand.

Merle needed a ride to work. The request hadn't exactly been formed in the way of a question. It was more a statement. It was something he expected Daryl to comply with despite the fact that Hershel Greene's farm was in the opposite direction of the housing development that Merle was now working in. Andrea's car, a puke green Pontiac that looked more like it belonged in a junkyard than anything else, had broken down on Friday. That's where they'd disappeared to all day Saturday. Merle, the self-taught mechanic that he was, had spent the day trying to get the damn thing running, but it had been to no avail. Andrea had taken him to work on Friday, and Monday Daryl didn't have to work so Merle had taken the truck, but today was a day when everyone had somewhere to be.

And so here they were, setting out earlier than Daryl had intended to leave, no one having eaten breakfast, and Daryl was playing chauffeur. They'd crammed into the cab of the rusty Ford. Daryl was supposed to take Merle to his job clear across town, and then he was supposed to drop Andrea off at her house, which apparently was on the opposite side of town and on his way toward the Greene farm. Daryl was hungry, he was crowded, and he was likely to be late for work.

They drove along in silence. Daryl assumed that either of his two riding buddies could very well be suffering from a hangover, or they were sleepy at the very least, and he didn't miss the conversation that they weren't having.

As they drove, though, Daryl spotted someone walking along the side of the road. Had they still been inside of town he might not have thought it very peculiar. He'd have probably thought it was someone heading to Lula's Diner to try to get one of the famous omelets before all the Early Bird Special customers got there and got the best seats. They were off the main road, though, and the person was almost running along the grassy side. As he got closer, his stomach clenched. It was Carol. For whatever reason he could recognize her stature easily, and her hair was a familiar and dead giveaway.

"What the hell's she doin'?" Daryl asked to no one in particular.

"Who?" Merle asked, his voice sounding groggy.

"Carol, why the hell is she runnin' down the road out here?" Daryl asked. He slowed the truck down and reached across Merle to try and crank the window down. Merle realized what he was doing and set to rolling the window down himself. Carol sped up as Daryl slowed the truck and he let his foot of the brake to roll forward a little to catch her. "Hey!" He called out the window. Carol looked over her shoulder for a moment, still maintaining her speed, but finally she slowed and then stopped. Daryl braked the truck right next to her. "What'cha doin' runnin' down tha road out here?" He asked. He realized it was none of his business, but he couldn't just leave her running down the road. What if she was running from something, or from someone?

"I'm not running," she protested, panting for air. "I'm walking, or I was."

Daryl almost laughed.

"Fastest damn walkin' I ever seen," he said. "Why the fuck ya walkin' down the road out here?"

"I've got somewhere to go," she said. "I've got a job. Is that OK with you?"

They weren't close to the apartments, and Daryl thought that if she'd maintained that speed for that distance, she was probably damn near exhausted. He didn't think he could run that far, not if nothing noteworthy wasn't chasing him.

"Lemme give ya a ride," he said. Both Merle and Andrea turned to look at him. He wasn't really sure why he'd offered to give the woman a ride, but it had sort of slipped out. If he was driving these two yahoos all over the place, he thought, he could be a few minutes late for dropping Carol off wherever it was that she was going. Hershel seemed to have a soft spot for her anyway, so he would likely forgive Daryl his tardiness if he explained the situation, and he'd gladly work a half hour overtime if he had to.

"I'm fine," Carol called back. She started to walk, this time at a normal pace. Daryl took his foot off the brake and let the old Ford creep forward a bit.

"We all got places ta go too," he yelled. "Get in tha truck an' we'll all get there a helluva lot faster than if we keep doin' it like this."

"Go on, then," Carol called back, not looking at him now. "I'm fine, I said. I can get there on my own."

Daryl lifted his foot again, lurching forward just a little.

"You're sure a hard headed bitch, ain't'cha?" Daryl called, chuckling a little at the stance she'd taken while walking. She turned and looked at him like she couldn't believe that he'd had the nerve to say it to her and he chuckled again at her face. "Come on, now, I ain't playin' no more. Get in tha truck or I'ma send Merle out ta get'cha," he called, softening his tone a little.

Carol stopped walking then and turned to face him.

"Looks like your pretty full, there," she said.

"Nah, there's always room," Daryl said. "You two scooch over," he commanded at Merle and Andrea. At first they both regarded him like he'd lost his mind, and maybe he had, but finally Merle shrugged and started to scooch. Andrea wriggled her way around until she was sitting in Merle's lap and Merle was as close to his brother as he could get without things getting really awkward inside the cab of the truck. "See? We got plenty a' room, so come on an' get in so we can all get where tha hell we headed."

Carol sighed, but she stepped toward the truck and pulled the door open. The ground off the road was lower than the level of the road and she struggled trying to pull herself in. Merle finally reached an arm out and caught her, pulling her into the cab. She pulled the door of the truck closed gingerly and it promptly popped back open, swinging out.

"Gotta close it like ya mean it, sugah," Merle said. "Ain't no delicate thing."

Carol nodded at him and slid to the edge of the seat, floundering for the door. Merle reached his arm out again and caught her by the back of the pants, holding to her as she swung out, fighting against stiff hinges of the door. Finally she pulled it back and slammed it shut with all her might. It stayed closed and Merle released his grip on her. She wriggled a moment in the seat, very likely from wedgie that Merle had offered her to start her day off right, and Daryl took his foot off the brake and steered the truck back onto the road.

"So where the hell ya goin'?" Daryl asked.

"Michonne Williams' house," Carol answered. Daryl looked around Andrea for a moment, but Carol wasn't looking at him.

"Ya gonna have ta tell me more than that if ya aim ta get there," Daryl said. Everyone else in Sweet Junction might know where this Michonne lived, but Daryl wouldn't have a clue even if it was a town monument.

"Just keep going on this road," Carol said.

Daryl grunted and continued on. Merle's destination was just ahead. He'd probably have gotten to work earlier if he'd taken off walking just when they'd stop to negotiate with their hard headed hitchhiker. Daryl pulled into the driveway of the house that Merle was working at, following his brother's instructions. Carol looked at him quizzically when he put the truck in park.

"Gotta make a delivery," Merle said. He stared at Carol and she stared back at him. Finally she realized that this meant that she needed to get out of the truck. She opened the door she'd fought so hard with earlier and dropped out of the cab. Andrea slid off Merle's lap and followed Carol out of the door. Finally Merle etched his way over to be freed from the very confined space that he'd been trapped in. "Got myself some fuckin' wood ta walk off 'fore work now, brothah, I hope ya happy," he growled in a whisper at Daryl just before he exited the cab. Daryl chuckled in response.

Daryl looked around at the few workers who were already milling around the job site. No doubt they were wondering about the clown car of individuals that had just pulled up. Merle waited while Andrea crawled back inside and Carol followed her. Then he closed the door with a slam, leaning against the still open window.

"Don't'cha worry 'bout me later," he said. "I reckon I can find someone 'round here that's willin' ta give me a ride."

Daryl nodded his understanding and backed the truck out of the driveway. The two women sat silently, side by side. Carol only spoke to direct Daryl in the direction of the place that she was going. When they got there, Daryl pulled into the driveway. A woman came out of the house as he was pulling up, wearing her pajamas and balancing a baby on her hip. On further inspection Daryl realized it was the lawyer woman. He waved at her from the cab of the truck as Carol wrestled the door open and slid out.

"Thanks," she said, slamming the door.

"No problem," Daryl said. "Next time don't take so damn long gettin' in."

Carol waved at him and walked toward the pajama clad, baby sporting, lawyer. Andrea slid over next to the door and Daryl backed the truck out, turning it in the opposite direction. He kind of wished that Andrea hadn't been in the truck. He felt like Carol might have talked more if Andrea hadn't been sandwiched in between them. Daryl thought about it and determined that he was going to try and fix that Pontiac when he got off work at Hershel's. Merle was a decent mechanic, that much was true, but Daryl knew that he was better than his brother at a lot of things, and if the bag of bolts could be saved, he was likely the man that would be able to save it.

As they drove along, having the longest part of their morning trek together, Daryl noticed that Andrea had turned her body in the seat to face him more than to face the road, and she was watching him.

"What tha hell ya lookin' at?" He growled. He lit a cigarette and let it hang just at the window in his side. Out the corner of his eye he could see the blonde smirking at him.

"You're sweet on Carol Ann," Andrea said.

"Fuck ya talkin' 'bout?" Daryl asked, annoyed already with her mouth. It was too damn early in the morning for a healthy dose of Andrea unless she was offering him a plate with bacon and eggs on it, and he hadn't seen not one bite of that this morning.

"You just had to give her a ride," Andrea said. "You're sweet on her, that's why."

"Ya don't know what'cha fuckin' talkin' 'bout," Daryl growled. "Just 'cause I give a woman a ride don't mean I'm sweet on her at all. I'm drivin' you right now, ain't I? And I can tell ya that I ain't tha least bit sweet on ya, I don't even like ya all that much."

Andrea chucked at him. She ran her hands through her hair and yawned before she returned to smirking.

"You've been stompin' and snortin' all morning since you heard you were gonna have to give me and Merle a ride, but as soon as we see Carol Ann goin' down the side of the road you turn into a white knight that's gotta pick her up or be damned trying," Andrea said.

"I ain't no fuckin' white knight, neither," Daryl said. "I couldn't just leave her ass runnin' down the side a' the road. Ya know her husband's crazy as fuck. What if he'd a' seen her out there just trottin' along? Don't tell me ya wouldn'ta done the same damn thing."

"Mmmm, I probably would have picked her up," Andrea said, "but I've known Carol Ann most of my life. We woulda picked her up for different reasons, you and me."

Daryl didn't want to talk about this anymore. He wasn't sweet on Carol. He'd never been sweet on anyone. It was one of the things about him that had always driven Merle nuts. Merle was always trying to find some woman to share his bed, even if he only wanted her for a night. Daryl hadn't ever wanted any of the women that they'd run into, no matter how hard Merle had tried to get him to take one of them home. Daryl had long ago become convinced that he just wasn't made from the same stuff that his brother was made for. He didn't even know how to be sweet on a woman.

"Shut yer mouth," Daryl said finally. He saw Andrea smirk again and he took the final drag on his cigarette, tossing the spent butt out the window.

"Fine," Andrea said, "but I just thought you should know, since I figured you might not have figured it out yet."

"An' ya done figured out ya was shackin' up with Merle?" Daryl asked, frustrated. Andrea chuckled.

"Me and Merle ain't nothing serious," Andrea said. "I like Merle. He entertains me. In return, I entertain Merle. That's all there is to it. I can move on whenever I want to."

"That's what a lotta addicts say too," Daryl said.

"You're probably right," Andrea said. "Your brother's good at what he does, since you brought it up, but I'd hardly say he was addicting. Besides, I've never had much of an addictive personality."

Daryl continued on without speaking and Andrea responded in the like. When he finally reached the rundown house she shared with another woman that Daryl had heard her speak of, but had never met, he turned into the driveway.

"Ya need ta cut ya damn grass," he growled. "Ya could lose a person out here."

"Can't," Andrea said. "Don't got a lawnmower. We just let it grow until it pisses the old woman two doors down bad enough and she nags her husband to come down here and cut it. Sometimes it gets damn near like a forest, but in the end we always win."

Andrea heaved the door of the Ford open and wriggled out. She slammed the door and Daryl called to get her attention as she started to walk off. She turned and walked back, standing just beside the door.

"I'ma come by when I get done at the Greene farm," Daryl said. "I'll see what I can do ta get ya damn car runnin'."

Andrea smiled.

"I'd appreciate that," she said. "I'll see about having you something to eat when you get here. Any requests?"

"Don't care," Daryl said, "long as it ain't got no onions in it."

Andrea smiled again.

"No onions, coming up," she said. She walked backward toward the house for a minute, banging her hand on the hood of the truck before she finally turned and trotted toward the entrance.

Daryl sighed and pulled out again heading for the farm and already practicing how he was going to explain to Hershel why he was late. He didn't want to explain to him everything that had happened, so he figured at best he might just stick to telling Hershel that he'd offered ,Carol a ride so she wouldn't have to walk what he figured to be easily seven or eight miles.

He tried to put Andrea out of his thoughts and to ignore completely her accusations that he had any feelings for Carol that went beyond those that he would feel for anyone that he saw trekking down the side of the road at a solid jog. He liked her because he thought she was a nice woman, and she had a nice smile, but he wasn't sweet on her. Even if he knew what it meant to be sweet on a woman, she was a married woman, and he was sure he wasn't sweet on a married woman.


	12. Chapter 12

Hershel Greene hadn't been too bothered by Daryl's delayed arrival for work, and he'd been even less bothered when Daryl offered to work an extra half hour to make up for the lost time. On his way back to the apartment, Daryl stopped at Andrea's house and pulled into the driveway. He was surprised to find that the grass had been cut in his absence and he assumed that like Andrea said, they'd won out against the old couple that lived a couple of houses down.

As Daryl crawled out of the truck, Andrea came sashaying out of the house. She was carrying a plate and a glass of tea.

"Ya got'cha grass cut?" Daryl asked. Andrea smiled.

"I guess you stopping by was the ticket. Old man came over her not an hour after you left and cut the damn yard, grumbling the whole time. Don't look too bad now, does it?" She said, walking toward him and resting the plate on the hood of the truck.

"We eatin' in tha yard?" Daryl asked.

"You're eating outside," Andrea said. "I already ate and Sam's being bitchy, so I didn't think you really wanted to go in and put up with her mouth."

"Worse than yours?" Daryl asked, leaning against the front of the truck a little and examining his dinner. Andrea rolled her eyes at him.

"Sam's always pissed about somethin'," Andrea said. "Her boyfriend or whatever the guy is jerkin' her around today, obviously. He's some deadbeat asshole from the next town over. She probably hasn't been seein' him for more than a month, but Sam falls in love with every asshole that looks in her direction and then she wonders why the hell they're always running around on her."

Daryl started eating, ignoring the fact that he had to do it standing up. It wasn't gourmet fare, but it was far superior to anything he might have made at home. He was sure there were better cooks than Andrea out there, but she was the only one feeding him, so he wasn't about to start complaining.

"So what the hell ya reckon's wrong with that heap other than the fact that ya shoulda retired it a long damn time ago?" Daryl asked around bites of his hamburger steak. Andrea shrugged.

"How should I know? I guess if I knew what was wrong with it I'd probably have it fixed by now," she said. "And don't talk about my heap when your truck's got a hole in the floorboard big enough for someone to fall through if they don't pay it any attention."

Daryl didn't respond. The truck was in pretty bad shape, that much was true, but it was the only thing that they owned flat out besides the few boxes of belongings that they packed up whenever they had to change locations. He cast his eyes in the direction of Andrea's old car and wondered if the same was true for her.

"Where'd ya get the car?" He asked.

Andrea cast her eyes in the direction of it and shrugged.

"Does it matter?" She asked.

Daryl didn't say anything. Her facial expression told him that it did matter, but that it might not be something she wanted to share with him. He hadn't heard Andrea talk much about her life, but there had to be a story as to how she ended up in Sweet Junction. He knew she wasn't from here, she'd told him that much. She was from some little town that was close by, but apparently she'd still known everyone in Sweet Junction most of her life.

Andrea stared back at him while he ate, slapping every now and again her legs. He presumed the mosquitos were biting her. Probably stirred up from the grass jungle that had recently been chopped down in her yard.

"My dad gave it to me," Andrea said. She shrugged a little. "Only damn thing I reckon he ever gave me. Amy was a different story, though."

"Who tha hell is Amy?" Daryl asked. He took the glass from her and drank down part of the contents.

"My sister," Andrea said. "Or my half-sister."

"Why she a different story?" Daryl asked.

"Better half?" Andrea responded. She smiled then. "She's a lot younger than me. We had different mothers. I guess you could say that I was the rough draft of the family, and then when Amy came along it was like my father had more or less figured out the parenting thing. Amy's a good kid. She'll go far in life."

Daryl felt bad for Andrea for a moment. He was younger than Merle, and from to time Merle would mention things about how different it was for Daryl when he was very small and his parents were still alive, especially with his mother. Daryl didn't know, of course, if there was much truth to it or not. He didn't feel like his parents had been trophy parents by any stretch of the imagination, and he couldn't really imagine things having been able to be much harder for Merle. But right now, looking at Andrea's face as she stared, obviously daydreaming, at the dilapidated old Pontiac, he wondered if Merle had ever felt about him the way that Andrea's face said she felt about Amy.

Daryl finished his food in silence and drained the rest of the tea. He stood there for a moment trying to decide if he should hand the dishes back to Andrea or just leave them resting on the hood. He opted to leave them resting on the hood.

"Let's see if we can't figure out what tha hell is wrong with this thing," he said, wiping his hands on his pants and starting toward the car. He opened the door and popped the hood. He walked around lifted the hood, moving the arm in place so that it would stay up. Andrea moved to lean on the fender. "Food was good, by the way," Daryl said.

"You're welcome," Andrea said, smiling. "Now get this thing going and I'll feed you whenever you want."

Daryl tinkered around, requesting one thing and then another from Andrea. She trotted back and forth between the toolbox on the back of the truck and where he was located without complaint. When he'd finally looked at everything he could, he came out from under the hood and wiped his hands on his pants again.

"They a parts store 'round here?" He asked.

"Yeah, in town. There's one just behind the Stop N' Save," Andrea said. "You know what's wrong with it?"

Daryl looked at the car again.

"Yeah, I think I do, an' I don't reckon it's gonna be too bad ta get'cha rollin' again, but we gonna have ta go into town first. Ya gotta work tonight?" He said.

Andrea shook her head.

"I'm off tonight, I go back tomorrow," she said. "Just so you know, your girl's workin' tomorrow night, too." Andrea winked at Daryl and he shook his head at her.

"Shut up an' get in the fuckin' truck if ya want ya car fixed," he growled.

Andrea moved the dishes off the truck and left them sitting by her car, then she joined Daryl in the cab of the truck and sat silently while he drove them back to town. Once they got there, she directed him to the part's store and waited patiently in the truck while he went in to get what she needed.

When Daryl crawled back in the cab of the truck, Andrea was leaned against the door with her elbow out the window. She turned and looked at the bag that he sat in the seat between them.

"Find everything?" She asked. Daryl knew it had taken him longer than he'd intended, but the place was anything but organized.

"Yea, I think I did," he said. "Might have ta wait 'til tomorrow ta put it all on though. Wanta be able ta see what the hell I'm doin'. Shouldn't take long, though, you'll be ready in time ta go ta work."

"That's fine," she said. "I've got nowhere to go before that."

Daryl nodded and cranked the truck.

"Let's get some ice cream while we're in town," Andrea said. Daryl looked at her, wrinkling his brow. "Don't look at me like that. The Dairy-O's just down the street and they have these great vanilla cones that they dip in this chocolate and it gets really crunchy."

"Ya serious?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, let's get some ice cream! Come on, I'll even buy you a cone." Andrea said. Daryl looked at her for another minute. Merle was probably already at the Water Ho and didn't have a clue where either of them were, unless he knew tonight was Andrea's night off, in which case it was only Daryl that he didn't have any idea about. "Come on, you know you want one. It's hot as the fuckin' blue blaze out here." Andrea said, attempting to prod him the rest of the way.

Daryl finally shrugged and drove toward the place. He'd seen it on his walk around town on Saturday. When they pulled in there were a number of cars parked over to the side where it looked like a bunch of teenagers were hanging out more than anything. Daryl pulled the truck into one of the front parks that faced directly into the building. Andrea was casting her eyes over the parking lot.

"I'll go in and get it," she said suddenly.

"I'll go in with ya, I ain't that damn embarrassed of ya that I don't want ta be seen with ya ass in the fuckin' Dairy-O," Daryl said, not understanding why the woman was suddenly acting a little jumpy.

"No, I've got it," she said, opening the door suddenly like she might make a run for it before he could try to catch her. "You want one of the cones or somethin' else?"

"Cone's just fine," he said, "an' if they got chili dogs, get me one a' them."

Andrea raised her eyebrows at him.

"You're still hungry?" She asked.

"It's a fuckin' chili dog, who can't eat a chili dog?" Daryl responded. She shrugged and climbed out the cab.

"OK then, you stay here. I'll be right back," she said. She slammed the truck door and disappeared inside the little fast food place. Daryl watched her through the window, still unable to figure out what was wrong with her. He saw several people gesture at her, and she waved back at a few of them, making her way to the counter. He had thought, for a moment, that she might have some kind of boyfriend that worked her or something and maybe she was afraid for him to know it, but no one approached her in any sort of amorous way.

Daryl lit a cigarette and hung out the window of the truck a little, watching Andrea through the windows as she placed the order and stood to the side, looking around and waiting. Suddenly, he saw someone approach her, and he realized why she hadn't wanted him to go inside. He recognized instantly the figure of Ed Peletier. Daryl took a drag off his cigarette, watching the two intently. It appeared that they were talking, maybe arguing, and then Andrea turned. Daryl saw Ed's hand go out and grab her arm, snatching her back in his direction.

Daryl yanked the door of the truck open and got out, dropping his cigarette and slamming the truck door in one movement. He rushed into the restaurant to find Ed holding strong to Andrea's arm and yelling something that Daryl wasn't paying attention while she protested his hand on her arm. It looked as though no one else in the place wanted to move at all.

"Get tha fuck off her!" Daryl growled, pushing around Andrea and shoving Ed backward. Ed let go of Andrea's arm and she moved out of the way, calling for someone to call the police.

"You really are quite the fuckin' little whore, aren't ya!" Ed called over Daryl's shoulder. "Fucking two dirty rednecks at one time, that's an all-time low for you, ain't it sweetheart?"

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl said, keeping his body between Ed and Andrea. He noticed, though, that as long as he kept himself in front of Ed as a physical block, Ed wasn't putting his hands up in any way. He still wore the bruises from his altercation with Merle, and Daryl was pleased to see them. He almost smiled, glad that Ed Peletier had to walk around town with his face painted with the proof that Merle Dixon had kicked his ass. "Boy ya really is a pansy ass, ain't'cha?" Daryl said, not really knowing what drove him to say it. "Ya won't fuckin' fight no one that's got a dick, that it?"

"You better get your nasty ass outta my face, boy, or I'm going to have you locked up," Ed spat. He jumped forward at Daryl, but still kept his hands firmly at his side. Daryl didn't flinch at his bluff and he looked frustrated.

"What's going on in here?" Daryl heard a voice behind him call. Ed's face relaxed, and he smiled.

"Officer Walsh, this boy here was trying to start a disturbance," Ed said. Daryl turned slightly then, not moving his body, to see the same dark haired man that had come in behind Carol at the Water Ho the other night. The man looked visibly annoyed already, and was dressed in a uniform instead of the jeans and t-shirt that he'd worn to the bar.

"That right?" The police offer asked. Daryl was already cursing under his breath. He didn't want to go to jail, but he might end up there. The Dixons had a way of ending up in jail despite when they were on their best behavior. "Ya sure you ain't had nothing to do with it, Ed?"

"I was just trying to have a talk with Andrea," Ed said. "Then he came in here shoving me around and trying to start a fight. I was just waiting on one of you to get here."

"Well I'm here now," the policeman said. "Let's take this outside, see if we can't sort it out without disturbing everyone's evening."

Andrea, carrying what had obviously been their order, was the first to step outside, followed by the police offer. Daryl came after him with Ed behind him. When they got out to the parking lot they naturally spread to form what was almost a circle.

"Now what the hell was going on in there?" The office asked.

"Look, Shane," Andrea started. "I went in to get some ice cream and a couple of chili dogs. Ed came up and he grabbed me. He was threatening me and Daryl here just stepped in to get him to stop."

Shane looked at Daryl a minute. Daryl knew better than to speak or even move in these situations unless he was addressed or else he might surely land himself in the same cell that Merle had been in, and the nice lawyer lady might not bail him out this time.

"Is that right, Ed? Did you grab Andrea?" Shane asked.

Ed smiled, and Daryl wanted to vomit on his shoes.

"It's nothing like that, Shane. I was just trying to talk to Andrea. There wasn't anything going on until this guy game stomping in. He was the one trying to cause a scene," Ed said.

"That's not true!" Andrea protested.

Shane held his hand up to calm Andrea and turned to Daryl then.

"Who are you anyway?" Shane asked. "I know everybody in Sweet Junction, but I don't know you."

"Daryl Dixon," Daryl said. "Just moved into town."

"His brother's the man that attacked me," Ed said suddenly. "They're trouble, Shane. They go around attacking people whenever it suits them."

Shane looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Seems to me they haven't attacked anyone but you, Ed, assuming what this boy did could be classified as an attack. Why do you suppose that is?" Shane asked. When Ed didn't respond he turned to Daryl. "Did you attack this man?" He asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"No, officer, I didn't attack him," Daryl said. "I shoved him."

"Why did you shove him?" Shane asked.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"I didn't like tha way he put his hands on Andrea an' it didn't look like she liked it none either," Daryl said. "I reckon I shoved him so he'd get his hands off her."

Shane sighed and shook his head. He turned to Andrea.

"Andrea, were you bothered by the way that Ed had his hands on you?" He asked.

Andrea narrowed her eyes at Ed.

"Yes I was," she said. "He was threatening me and calling me names. I only went in the place for ice cream and chili dogs. Last time I checked that didn't come with a' side of harassment."

"Way I see this is you all are gonna go home. Ed, you're walking on thin ice with me right now, so I suggest you cut your evening short and head on back to your house. Andrea, I suggest you take your food and get back to wherever you were headed. Try to steer clear of Ed here if the two of you can't play nice together. As for you, what did you say your name was?" Shane asked, turning his attention back to Daryl.

"Daryl," Daryl responded.

"Daryl, next time you see something going on that you think shouldn't be happening, why don't try calling law enforcement and let us handle it instead of you getting involved," Shane said.

"He was hurtin' her," Daryl said.

Shane nodded.

"Just let one of us handle it. That's what we're here for," Shane said sharply.

Daryl nodded, not wanting to prolong his brush with the law of Sweet Junction any longer than he had to. Shane waited and Ed started toward the car that apparently belong to him. Daryl walked over and yanked open the driver's side door of the truck. He crawled in and waited for Andrea to get in the other side. He stayed parked for a moment, wanting to be sure that Ed was good and gone before they pulled out.

"Thank you," Andrea said.

Daryl grunted at her and accepted the half melted ice cream cone she shoved into his hand.

"I ain't never understood the damn police with their shit," Daryl said quietly. He didn't want to be overheard by the officer that was standing on the sidewalk near the truck. He was pretending to be minding the business of the teenagers parked to the side, but Daryl knew that he was watching them and wondering what he would do. "Some fucker's doin' some shit an' you're just supposed ta stand ta the side an' let him do it 'til someone can get there an' break it up."

"Doesn't make a world a' sense, does it?" Andrea asked.

"Sure as shit don't," Daryl said. He bit the top off the ice cream cone, ignoring the fact that the sticky mess was running down his hand. He cranked the truck and backed out of the spot, not missing the fact that the officer watched him as he pulled out. "Ya goin' back ta our place or yours?" He asked.

"I was going back to mine," Andrea said, "but I think I'd rather come back to yours for the night. I don't trust Ed Peletier and he seems to think that I've got something to do with his wife leaving and with Merle jumping him the other day. I wouldn't be surprised if he's at my place waiting on me."

Daryl grunted his understanding. As far as he knew, Ed didn't know where they lived, but he shared the feeling with Andrea that Ed was the kind of man you might expect to find waiting outside your door. He was a sneaky bastard. He wouldn't fight you in a fair fight for God and everyone else to see. He was more the type that was going to try to catch you when your guard was down and there were no witnesses to attest to the kind of asshole that he really was.

If he showed up outside their door, though, he was liable to get more than he came asking for. Dixons didn't like going to jail, but they didn't mind it all that much, and they certainly weren't the kind of people that let individuals like Ed Peletier threaten them. Not in public, and especially not on their turf.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: I'm putting this on all my fics for those of you that only read one or the other. I'm not sure when it'll happen but sometime soon I'm going to be entering into an era of my life where I'm really crunched for time. That means that for the most part I'll only be able to get a chapter out a day for any given fic (I have 3 normally updated ones and a 4****th**** I'm trying to start updating more regularly). That means that whenever that time comes, I may go several days before I update each one since I'll be doing it in round robin fashion. I wanted to let you know so that you wouldn't think I'd abandoned this or any of the others just because they go a few days without an update. I'm not abandoning any of them, just spreading my time around.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! **

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"I'm not saying that they're bad people, Carol, what I'm saying is that you need to keep your distance for appearance purposes," Michonne said. She'd convinced Carol to stay for dinner after she got off work, promising to take her home later. It was apparent now to Carol that Michonne had spent her entire day worrying about the fact that she had arrived at the house in the Dixon's truck with Daryl and Andrea.

"He gave me a ride," Carol said. "He picked me up on the side of the road. I don't think anyone saw us except for the people at the construction site that his brother's working at."

"And that could be enough," Michonne said.

"So now you can't even accept rides from people?" Carol asked, taking a bite of her food and pushing some of the rest around with her fork.

"I'm saying that it doesn't _look_ good, Carol. Ed's not going to take this divorce laying down and you know that. He's going to fight it and he's certainly going to do everything he can to keep you from getting as much money as you deserve out of this. Now I've got X Rays, and I've got medical records, both of which can confirm domestic abuse, but he's not going to just let that go without at least trying to defame your character. The most logical way that he's going to do that is by saying that you were having an affair or that you got tangled up with the wrong bunch of people and maybe started drinking or using drugs, perhaps even physically lashing out at him," Michonne said.

"Well that's bullshit," Carol argued.

"I know it's bullshit, and you know it's bullshit, but a jury might not know that. We'll be doing this at county and not all of our jurors are going to come from Sweet Junction. You can't count on people knowing the backstory, and even if they do, you can't count on town gossip not to skew that story," Michonne said.

"I never had an affair on Ed," Carol said. "I've never even been close to having an affair on Ed. How could I? I was under surveillance all the time. If I so much as sneezed Ed seemed to find out about it."

"Right, so for now your name is clear, but if you go running around in public with the Dixon men, that might not be the case anymore," Michonne said. "It's bad enough that you're working over there at Loretta's bar. Bad reputations get built at places like that."

Carol rolled her eyes.

"It's a bar! I work there, that's it. Rick and Shane are there half the time. Nothing happens. So far I haven't even had handsy customers, not like Andrea gets," Carol said.

"And that's a good thing, but you've still got to be careful. Andrea Duff had a reputation in high school, ever since Jimmy Garrison knocked her up. Her reputation went downhill from that, but you can bet all those years she put in whoring it up at Loretta's didn't help with the fact that she gained a widespread reputation as pretty much the reigning slut of Sweet Junction," Michonne said.

"That's harsh," Carol said, jerking her head up now at Michonne. Michonne shrugged.

"I'm not trying to be harsh, I'm being honest. You tell me the reputation that woman has," Michonne said.

Carol ducked her head again. She knew exactly what kind of reputation Andrea had, but it didn't mean that she didn't think it was harsh. Andrea was from Ferndale, a small town that bordered Sweet Junction and was so sadly developed that its citizens often made the trip to Sweet Junction in search of entertainment. Andrea had been dating boys that could drive since she was probably twelve or thirteen, and had ended up being well known for it in town. It was rumored that when she was sixteen one of the boys from Sweet Junction named Jimmy Garrison got her pregnant. Nothing ever came of the alleged pregnancy besides a flood of gossip and rumors, but it was enough to cement Andrea's reputation in the small town, and apparently made it even harder for her to live in Ferndale.

Carol knew all about Andrea's reputation, that much was true, but she often wondered if Andrea acted the way she did _because_ of her reputation, instead of the other way around. Sort of a different take, perhaps, on the old adage that if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. In a town like this she wasn't likely to outrun the rumors, so she might as well embrace them. Though Carol knew that Andrea had this reputation, and though she'd seen her out with various men throughout the years, there was really no proof that she did anything with any of them beyond the stories they told, and they would tell them anyway.

"I know her reputation," Carol said finally. "I'm not doing anything with anyone, though. I just accepted a ride to your house. It was probably less than two miles."

"Two miles is far enough if someone saw you, and you know that," Michonne said. "Not to mention that this Merle guy has a rap sheet that could cover the state of Georgia. I don't have any reason to get ahold of his brother's record, but I bet it's not spotless. That's not exactly the kind of crowd that you want to be known for spending your time with if Ed is trying to scrape something up on you."

"Fine," Carol said. "I get it. I'll try and steer clear of them as much as possible. I mean they live across the hall from me and all three of them are always at the Watering Hole, but I'll try to keep from causing anymore suspicion than I already have."

"That's all I'm asking," Michonne said. "I'm just trying to look out for you. Once the divorce is final it really doesn't matter what you do or who you do it with, but until then you don't want to give Ed any fuel for whatever fire he may be trying to get started, and you know how people around here talk."

"Yeah, I understand, Michonne. Ed's going to use everything he can against me," Carol said. "I'll try and steer clear of them."

Carol turned her attention to her dinner. She hadn't realized that accepting a ride was going to be such a big deal, but apparently it had been the worst decision that she could have made for the day. Now she was tired and she just wanted to finish eating so that Michonne could drive her back to her apartment and she could get some rest. She had to work the morning at Lula's Diner and then the night at the Watering Hole and she knew she needed to get some sleep if she wasn't going to be dead on her feet before she and Andrea closed up the bar.

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"Why didn't ya kick his ass, boy?" Merle growled.

"He wasn't tryin' ta fight me an' we was kinda in the middle of a restaurant. They was people all around, Merle. The damn cops showed up. I weren't tryin' ta go ta jail 'cause a' his sorry ass," Daryl retorted, his voice raised.

"Look, it's not that big a deal," Andrea said. "Daryl took care of it and Shane broke it up."

Daryl and Merle were sitting at the card table in the kitchen while Andrea sat perched on the counter facing both of them. She was wearing one of Merle's shirts and a pair of his boxers that she'd gotten out of his drawers. Since she didn't return to her house after she and Daryl left for parts, she didn't have anything of her own in the apartment. Merle had worked late to make some overtime and then had swung by the Watering Hole for a few drinks before returning home. When Daryl and Andrea told him about the run in with Ed at the Dairy-O he'd been furious, and the flames were only fanned when he realized there were bruises forming on Andrea's arm where Ed had grabbed her.

"Ed Peletier can't go around puttin' his hands on any damn woman he pleases," Merle said. "It's bad enough he thinks he got a right ta do it ta the one he married, but he can't just go runnin' 'round town grabbin' 'em up 'cause he ain't got no punchin' bag right now."

"Well there's not much you can do about it right now, Merle. Ya can't jump him again 'cause that lawyer lady ain't gon' bail ya out twice an' ya could get in a world a' trouble. They don't know us 'round here, an' for the most part that's a good thing, but it also means they don't trust us just on principle. They know Ed," Daryl said.

"Then they gotta know what kinda fuckin' son of a bitch he is then," Merle said. "Don't they fuckin' know Andrea?"

Andrea sat on the counter kicking her feet against it, her heels making pounding noises on the cabinet every time that they made contact.

"I'm not exactly the character witness that you want here in Sweet Junction, if ya catch my drift. Those people in the Dairy-O today wouldn't have stopped Ed if he'd a' drug me outside kicking and screaming. They'd have figured I probably earned it one way or another," Andrea said. "Besides, I don't want either one of you going to jail, not on my account. Ed'll cool down as soon as he gets over this shit with Carol and with the fact that you knocked his manhood down a notch. Then he'll go back to seeing me as a pair of tits and an ass that works at the Watering Hole some nights. Until then I'll lay low and get Loretta to put me on the schedule only when Carol's workin'. Ed's got a court order. Can't be nowhere in the vicinity of the place if Carol's there."

"It still ain't fuckin' right," Merle growled. "Who tha fuck does he think he is any damn way? I don't give a shit if he was born in this fuckin' one horse town or not, don't give him no right ta be a dick ta ya."

"Let it go, Merle. I can take care of myself," Andrea said. "I did just fine before you got to town and I'll do just fine now without you getting your ass locked up for fucking with a man that isn't worth the time you'd spend in jail and isn't worth the money we'd have to scrape up to get'cha out."

Merle looked like he was finally starting to settle down about it. Daryl knew his brother well enough to know that Merle was like an elephant. He never forgot. He may very well lay low, but Ed Peletier had best avoid crossing his path or Merle would be on the lookout for any excuse possible to tangle up with him. Daryl just hoped that he did it in a way that didn't land him in a world of hurt while old Ed got off scot free.

"Fine, but'cha ain't fuckin' stayin' at'cha house 'til that asshole simmers tha fuck down about that lil' woman a' his, 'cause I ain't just gon' sit on my hands like no fuckin' kid if'n he got a hair up his ass an' decided ta pay ya a visit. Tomorrow I'll take ya back there an' ya can get whatever the fuck ya need to hide out here for a while," Merle said.

"I'm going after work to fix her car," Daryl said. "I'll come back by here when I leave Hershel's and take her by her house."

Merle got up then, nodding slightly at Daryl. He leaned around Andrea and opened the cabinet to the side of her. He fished out a bottle of whiskey and closed the cabinet with a bang that made Andrea jump.

"Don't'cha fuckin' leave her there," Merle said, pointing a finger at Daryl around the side of the whiskey bottle. Daryl didn't respond to him in any way other than to nod his head a little. He had no intention of leaving Andrea at her house if she didn't feel safe there, and he wasn't anxious to have his brother trying to fight with him and take out the rage that he was really storing up over Ed.

Merle disappeared through the hall door that branched off to their bedrooms or the bathroom. A few minutes later Daryl heard the shower start up and knew that Merle was doing something that he very often did when he was pissed off. He was going to take a long ass shower, the kind that ran any hope of hot water out for at least two hours in a shit hole like this, and he was going to drink himself into a stupor while he did it.

Daryl turned to look at Andrea. She was still perched on the counter, but she looked far away for the moment.

"Should I go try to calm him down?" Andrea asked without turning to Daryl. She still looked like she was daydreaming, but apparently she was waiting for a response.

"Won't do no damn good," Daryl said. "Once Merle's in a mood like this it's best just ta let 'im ride it out."

Andrea nodded, finally turning to look at Daryl. Then she smiled, the same fake smile that she wore plastered on the entire time she was working.

"Wanna play cards?" She asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Ain't nothin' else ta do an' it's too damn early ta go ta sleep," Daryl said.

Andrea hopped down off the counter and crossed the kitchen. She rummaged around a drawer that had more or less been the location where everything in the apartment that didn't have a place had managed to end up. She came up with the deck of cards.

"Damn deck's missin' cards," Daryl said.

"That's fine," she said. "We got a note pad, we'll just make the ones it's missing."

"Then we'll know what the hell cards we got just 'cause we'll know which ones we had ta make outta paper," Daryl said.

Andrea smiled again.

"So we'll play something really low stakes for the night. Tomorrow I'll walk down to the Five and Dime and pick us up a new deck," she said. She sat down at the table across from Daryl and started to sort the cards so that she could make the others. "What'cha know how to play?"

Daryl shrugged.

"I can play a little poker, but I ain't no good at it," he said.

"Go Fish it is, then," Andrea said.

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Daryl and Andrea were on their third game of Go Fish and Merle was still in the shower. Daryl was pretty well sure that he was about as drunk as he could get because he'd begun to sing. When Merle did his shower stints like this he always ended up singing. You could tell, though, by what he was singing the level of drunkenness that he had achieved. He was on sad Hank Williams' songs now, which meant that it wouldn't be too long before they heard a crash and he had to go and cover his brother's naked ass where he'd passed out and fell out the shower. Daryl knew that Andrea hadn't seen one of those nights before, but he had a feeling that tonight would be the night.

He cut his eyes at her, studying her cards as though this were some high stakes poker game instead of a stupid kid's game. If she stayed through a shower night, even after dragging an alcohol saturated Merle to bed where he was likely to vomit on her in the middle of the night, then Daryl would know that there was more to them than the casual shit that they tried to sell him. He wouldn't stay with Merle through nights like these if he weren't his brother.

There was a knock at the door all of a sudden and Daryl saw Andrea jump. He'd been caught by surprise too. He was waiting for Merle's crash, but a knock was unexpected. They didn't exactly know a lot of people in town and he didn't know anyone that would be paying them a visit. From what he'd seen, too, Andrea wasn't exactly popular outside of the stale smoky atmosphere of the Watering Hole.

"Ed?" Andrea mouthed at him, her eyes going wide.

Daryl hated to admit that the thought crossed his mind too. That's all he fucking needed tonight was Ed Peletier showing up outside his door when Merle was drunk as a skunk and butt ass naked in the other room. Daryl didn't doubt that he could take the man in a fight, but he really wasn't looking to have a fight right now. Daryl got up and crossed the kitchen, trying to decide if he was going to answer the door. The knock repeated. He glanced at Andrea, but she was watching him. He had no way of seeing outside the door, so he finally stopped before it.

"Who tha hell is it?" He called.

"It's Carol," Carol's voice called back.

Daryl yanked the door open, realizing that if it had been Ed he could have gotten in easily. They never locked the door, so it had been wide open.

Carol was standing outside the door in a worn bathrobe, her hair tied up in a bun almost on top of her head. Daryl stopped a minute, trying to figure out what to say in a situation like this.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," Carol said, "but I think my hot water heater is broken and I wanted to see if it's just mine or if it's something with the whole building."

Daryl looked at her a minute, still unable to formulate any kind of reaction. She had her arms wrapped around her waist, but the neck of the robe still showed far more skin than he'd been expecting. It was a lot less, granted, than what she wore at the Watering Hole, but for some reason it seemed different when it was a bathrobe. Daryl imagined that she was probably naked underneath the robe, having decided to take a shower before realizing that she didn't have any hot water. He cursed himself, unsure of why his thoughts had gone there. He wasn't one for the practice of regularly picturing women naked.

Finally Daryl snapped out of his daydream, realizing that Carol was staring at him expectantly, waiting to find out if it was just her hot water that was out. Daryl realized that a building as shitty as this one likely had a central hot water heater, or at the most, probably had one for each floor. His brother had probably long since drained the thing dry.

"Merle!" Daryl called. "Get out tha fuckin' shower! There's other people in tha damn buildin' that's gotta bathe!"

Daryl heard some sort of sound coming from the bathroom that let him know that his brother had heard him, though he probably hadn't fully understood the message. A few minutes later he heard the water shut off and then then there was a series of noises that began with a shrill clang and ended with a sickening thud. Daryl turned his head just in time to see Andrea darting toward the bathroom.

Daryl looked back at Carol who was staring, wide eyed.

"What was that?" She asked.

"Nothin'," Daryl said. "Prob'ly just fell outta tha shower. Them damn thing's is slick. Ya oughtta be careful."

Carol continued to stare at him for a second and then she nodded her head a little.

"Shouldn't you go and check on him?" She asked.

"I will in a minute," Daryl said. "Andrea done gone back there right now, so she'll make sure he ain't broke his fuckin' neck ner nothin'."

Daryl looked at Carol again and tried to chase away the image of her naked that was trying to invade his thoughts again. He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat.

"Well, he's outta tha shower now," Daryl said. "If what I seen in tha past is any indication, though, it's gonna be at least two hours 'fore ya got any hot water."

Carol looked disappointed for a minute and Daryl wished he'd had the insight to limit Merle's shower time earlier. This wasn't the first time they'd stayed in a place that didn't exactly have the best hot water system for the building, though in the last place they'd stayed it was the upstairs neighbor that was always disturbed by Merle's showers and she would go to banging on the pipes under the sink, sending some God awful clanging noises ringing through their little apartment when she realized she was out of hot water.

"Sorry," Daryl said, trying to think of anything that might wipe the disappointment off of Carol's face.

"No, don't worry about it," she said. "I can warm some water up on the stove. It's not a big deal. Thanks anyway."

Carol turned then, and Daryl watched as she crossed the hall, her hand going for the knob of her door.

"I'll make sure he don't do it again," Daryl said suddenly. "He oughtta thought more about the other people that live here, we ain't tha only people gotta shower."

Carol nodded at him a little and smiled a faint smile, glancing back over her shoulder as she opened the door.

"Really, it's not that big of a deal," she said. "I'm just glad to know it's not just some problem I'm having."

"Could be," Daryl said, "but I reckon it's got more ta do with shitty construction."

Carol nodded again and stepped inside the door. Daryl was still standing there with his door open, unable to make himself go inside and close the door to check on the progress of Merle and Andrea on their trip to get Merle into bed.

"Well, goodnight," Carol said.

"Night," Daryl responded.

Carol closed her door and Daryl lingered there a moment longer. Finally he closed the door and stopped a second to lock it. He wasn't afraid of anyone stealing anything, that much remained true, but he didn't like the idea of any surprise visitors. He sighed and started back toward Merle's bedroom to make sure that Andrea got him safely to bed and that neither of them needed his assistance, calling out before he got there in case Andrea didn't sleep in the clothes that she'd borrowed from his brother.


	14. Chapter 14

Daryl tinkered around under the hood of Andrea's car for far longer than he'd expected, but he hoped that in the end it would be worth it. In the time that he spent tinkering, she divided her time between loading the back of his truck with her things and running back and forth to deliver tools and such that he needed. He tried to ignore the fact that she was growing more and more antsy about the hour. She had to work, and he knew that, but he couldn't imagine that being a few minutes late would be that dramatic. Carol had been late the first night, seemingly without any sort of consequences, so surely she could pick up the slack for Andrea for a half an hour.

When Daryl finally tested the old Pontiac he was pleasantly surprised when it roared to life. He looked at Andrea, who was hanging anxiously around the front fender, and she jumped a little, grinning at the sound of it running. He returned the smile and crawled out of the driver's seat, leaving the old car running. He circled around and closed the hood, gathering up the last of his tools.

"Good as new," he said. "Should hold ya for a while."

"Thank you!" Andrea said, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Easy now!" Daryl said. "Don't want Merle hearin' ya was grabbin' all over me an' gettin' jealous."

Andrea swatted him and he smiled again, moving to put his tools in the toolbox.

"Ya got all ya stuff yet?" He asked, opening the door on the Ford.

"Yeah," Andrea said. "It's all loaded in the back. There's really nothing left here that's mine at all."

Daryl looked into the back of the truck. There were two cardboard boxes and one suitcase that looked like it had certainly seen better days, but that was it. He'd assumed she was simply packing a few things to hide out at their apartment until Ed Peletier moved on with his life and forgot about Merle and realized that Andrea had nothing to do with neither Merle's attack nor Carol's decision to leave him, now, however, he was aware that this pitiful collection of stuff was simply the collection of all of Andrea's possessions.

Daryl shrugged to himself, realizing that the three of them together didn't own enough to fill the back of the old truck.

"Well, we best be headin' back then. Ya gotta change before work?" He asked. Andrea was wearing a low cut shirt, which was pretty standard for her, but her tight fitting jeans weren't as revealing as what she typically wore for a night at the Watering Hole.

"Yeah," she said. "I gotta pair a' shorts in the car. I can change in the bathroom at work."

"Fine," Daryl said. "I'll unload ya shit at the apartment. Tell Merle that I'll be down there afterwhile."

"You got it," Andrea said, crawling in the car and slamming the door shut. Daryl got into the truck and cranked it. He backed out of Andrea's driveway and backed down the road far enough that she could back out in front of him. He sat and waited on her, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror in case any other cars might approach, but none did. When Andrea was backed out of the driveway and put the car in drive to head toward town, Daryl followed behind her, keeping just a car length's distance between them in case she were to break down and need his assistance.

Daryl watched as Andrea pulled into the parking lot at the Watering Hole and then he drove on to their apartments, parking out front instead of around back where he normally parked. He moved the boxes and the suitcase upstairs, leaving them to the side in Merle's room. He wasn't sure how they were going to handle the space issue, neither of the rooms in the apartment being very large, but that wasn't his problem. He wasn't the one that had decided, whether it was being admitted or not, to shack up with Andrea. Daryl did, at least, have the foresight to make sure that her things were not in any direct path to the bed, knowing full well that a drunken Merle would very likely fall over them if they were and then he'd wake the whole building up cussing over what had happened to him through no fault but his own.

After everything was unloaded Daryl rummaged through the cabinets and found a jar of peanut butter. He made himself a sandwich and sat eating it at the card table in the kitchen. They weren't living off Ed's tab any longer down that the Water Ho and he wasn't going to eat there if it could be avoided. The money that Merle spent on booze there was enough, there was no need to suck up more of their income if it could be avoided.

Daryl finished off his sandwich and dusted the crumbs off the table onto the floor. Then he got up and went downstairs. He moved the truck around back so that it wouldn't bother anyone who didn't like the residents of the fine establishment parking on the street. Then he lit a cigarette and started off in the direction of the bar where he seemed to end most of his days.

When Daryl got there, he noticed the same old patrons in their same places. It seemed like each day that he stepped through the door he was stepping into a rerun of some terrible television show. In the corner sat Rick in his uniform. He was apparently there to keep an eye out for Carol, who was busy shuffling around mugs and shot glasses for the people there. Daryl thought that having an officer on duty inside the bar might upset clientele, but from the looks of it no one seemed to care. Daryl knew that some of the people there were likely to be driving, judging from the full parking spaces outside the joint. He could only reason that Sweet Junction wasn't a place that cracked down too hard on drinking and driving. He chuckled to himself as he walked to the bar, figuring that it was probably owing that you couldn't go too far in either direction before being _outside_ of Sweet Junction, and therefore it was reasonable to assume that none of the drunks had very far to drive.

Daryl took his customary seat at the bar and waited patiently. Merle greeted him with a nod of his head, but didn't say anything.

"Got Andrea's car runnin'," Daryl said.

Merle grunted and nodded his head.

"Moved her shit in too," Daryl said.

Another grunt followed. Merle took a shot from the bottle he had in front of him.

"Ain't a whole lot," Daryl said. "She ain't got a pot ta piss in, looks like."

"Neither do we, lil' brothah," Merle said. Daryl nodded his head.

Carol stepped in front of Daryl and offered him a shot glass without speaking. She stood there a moment, rearranging bottles under the bar. Daryl glanced up at her. His eyes lingered a moment longer on her cleavage than he'd intended and he quickly pushed himself to look at her face. She was looking down, though, and hadn't noticed him momentarily fixated on the line between her breasts.

"Did'ja water ever get hot again?" He asked. He felt like he should make some sort of conversation, but that wasn't really what he'd intended to ask. He hadn't exactly prepared well. He felt his cheeks growing hot and suddenly wished he hadn't said anything. Carol looked at him, not responding for a second and then she smiled.

"It did," she said. "I guess it was just out of water."

"Good thing it weren't broke," Daryl said, "ya might not a' ever got 'em ta come fix it." He was floundering now and he could feel Merle glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

"That's probably true," Carol said. She stood there a moment like she was going to say something else. Finally she walked off. She made it to the end of the bar before she turned around and came back. "Listen, I can't accept rides from you anymore," she said.

Daryl was struck. He had been too busy kicking himself for asking such a stupid question and had forgotten almost entirely that he'd given her a ride. Now she was looking at him like she was worried about his reaction and telling him that she couldn't accept a ride from him again. He didn't have to ask himself why she couldn't accept one. It was pretty obvious. Sweet Junction was a small town and women like her didn't tangle with men like the Dixons. That had been the way things were his entire life, and he had no illusions that it would change just because the scenery had changed a little.

He felt a little sorry, though, and he didn't know why. For some reason he suddenly wished that he'd had the chance to get to know her a little better. He wished that Andrea hadn't been sitting between them in the cab of the truck for the few miles that she _had_ been the kind of woman that would accept a ride from the likes of him.

She stood there, still looking at him, her blue eyes fixed on him, and he knew he had to respond in some way. He nodded his head, attempting not to look disappointed. He wasn't going to let some woman think she'd hurt his feelings. That wasn't how he operated.

"Fine," he said. "Sorry for buggin' ya."

Daryl realized his tone was harsh, but it was the only one that he could find at the moment. Carol looked a little struck and lowered her eyes, nodding her head in response. She didn't say anything else. She turned and went to work filling a pitcher with beer, presumably to carry around and refill the glasses of anyone that was beginning to see the bottom of theirs.

"Don't look so long in tha face," Merle said suddenly. "Ya can see that girl ain't your kinda gal. If ya got ya a hankerin', I can ask Andrea if she knows some sweet lil' number ta set ya up with. Someone that'll be more ya speed."

"Shut up, Merle, ya don't know nothin' 'bout nothin'," Daryl said. He didn't feel like getting ribbed by his brother right now.

"Ah, now, don't be that way lil' brothah," Merle said. He sat silently for a moment before pouring Daryl another shot and taking one himself. "Tell ya tha truth, I was beginnin' ta worry 'bout ya, so I'm kinda glad ta see ya mouth runnin' over some skirt, even if she ain't tha kind that's gonna let'cha hit no home runs."

Merle chuckled again and took another shot. He turned slightly in his stool and Daryl didn't even have to follow his gaze to know that he was checking Carol out, wherever she may be in the bar right now.

"Nah…she ain't even gonna let'cha get outta the dugout, boy," Merle said. "Looks like she done got her a man that's eyein' her…one Mr. Po-liiice Officer," Merle drawled.

Daryl turned slightly on his stool and scanned the smoky bar to spot Carol speaking to a second officer. He was the guy, Shane, that had been there at the Dairy-O. Though he was wearing the pants to his uniform, he was wearing a t-shirt and nothing else to mark him as a cop. He was clearly supposed to be off duty, though he apparently had been home to change. He shared the table with the other officer, Rick, and currently he was busy telling some story with his hands that Carol was enthralled with. She stood by his table, watching him. Daryl couldn't hear the story, but he could hear his voice booming, indicating that he was very likely a drink or two over the legal limit himself, and also that he was putting on a clear show for Carol's attention.

"I don't care," Daryl snarled, turning around.

"Don't be sour, boy, he's more her speed. Got him a good job, prob'ly from 'round here. Yeah…real respectable. She don't belong here no more than he do, an' she'll be outta this here joint just soon as she can afford ta keep that husband from poundin' on her face…" Merle said, pausing to take a shot. "An' ya can bet, he'll be goin' with her."

Daryl fished a cigarette out of the pack that was tucked in his pocket and lit it. He had no idea why it bothered him, but it did. He knew that clearly the police officer was a better fit for Carol, and it wasn't like he'd ever imagined himself being something she'd be interested in. Still, for whatever reason, it crawled his ass when he looked over there and saw her fixated on whatever stupid story he was telling. It was probably a lie anyway. The altercation at the Dairy-O had probably been the most exciting thing that had happened to the bastard in months.

Andrea walked up a few minutes later and leaned on the bar a minute. Daryl glanced up at her and saw that her expression was obviously a flustered one.

"The hell happened ta you?" Merle asked. Andrea sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Just got off the fuckin' phone with Loretta," Andrea said. "Apparently she's hired someone else to come and work here. Now we'll be splittin' the fuckin' tips three ways most nights. All I can say is the little bitch better work her ass off 'cause Carol's just barely raking in enough to keep me from being pissed about splittin' with her and the little bitch that's 'bout to start working don't even need the fuckin' job."

Merle chuckled a little.

"Ya sure is steamed up, sugar tits," he said. "What's got'cha so pissed 'bout this new lil' gal?"

"Her name is Mary Ann Walsh," Andrea said. "She's barely legal to even serve booze and she looks like a fucking Barbie doll. Loretta's only hiring her to keep in some good graces. She's Shane's cousin. It's a summer job for her, but she's going to be sucking money outta my pocket so she can go and fuck around at the mall in Calhoun."

"Where tha hell is that?" Merle asked, still not losing the smile he wore over Andrea's obviously annoyed expression.

"It's about an hour's drive from here," Andrea said. "County seat and the biggest town you're gonna run into before you run outta gas."

"Don't sweat it, sugah, I'm sure she ain't gon' hurt business too bad. If she ain't but barely legal she's bound ta make a dollar or two," Merle said. He elbowed Daryl hard and winked at him. Daryl could tell then that his brother was pretty well lit. "Might be a ticket for ya, lil' brothah!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Merle?" Andrea asked. She heaved herself off the bar and pretended to be working, but Daryl knew by now that she was simply bluffing to buy more time to talk to them without someone saying she wasn't doing anything.

"Ole Daryl's got him a sweet tooth," Merle said.

"Shut tha fuck up, Merle," Daryl growled.

Andrea looked between the two of them for a moment.

"One I don't know about?" Andrea asked.

"Well now that depends, sugah, how many dames has my lil' brothah been after?" Merle asked. Daryl curled his lip at him. Merle was trying to look sober, but it wasn't working. His eyes were too glossy and his eyelids were obviously too heavy.

"Just Carol, far as I know," Andrea said.

"Ya can both go ta hell," Daryl spat. It was bad enough having to deal with Merle's gum flapping. He didn't need the constant ribbing from Andrea to go with it.

"Well…so I ain't tha only one that knows it," Merle said. "Ain't that interestin'. I believe this is tha first time he's been in heat his whole damn life, an' now she done shut him down 'fore he even got his engine goin' good."

"Shut him down?" Andrea asked. She picked up a rag and started thoroughly cleaning the bar around them.

"She ain't fuckin' shut me down 'cause there ain't a damn thing ta shut down," Daryl said. "I give her a fuckin' ride 'cause she was walkin' down the street. I'da done it for anyone."

"Easy now," Merle said. "Don't get'cha panties twisted. We just havin' a lil' fun with ya."

Merle turned to Andrea who was a few steps away and scrubbing the bar probably better than it had been scrubbed in years. Daryl almost quit being mad simply because he was amused at thinking about how hard she was working to look like she was busy.

"Carol told him she couldn't ride with him no more an' now he's all down about it," Merle said.

Andrea looked up. She shrugged a little.

"So? Why's that the end of the world?" She asked.

Merle turned and looked at Daryl then. Daryl eyed both of them and fished another cigarette out of his pocket, refusing to pay either of them any attention.

"Reckon she done got her a sweetheart," Merle said. He gestured back toward the booth that was occupied by the two police officers.

"Who?" Andrea asked.

"That there officer," Merle said.

"Rick? Rick's married with a kid," Andrea said. "He isn't a bit more interested in Carol than a man in the moon."

"The other one," Merle said. "The dark headed one looks like he spends most his damn time lookin' at himself in his mirror."

Andrea looked again and snickered.

"Shane?" She asked. Merle shrugged. Daryl knew that Merle wasn't likely to know their names. He didn't bother to learn people's names unless they meant something to him, and law enforcement didn't mean much to him unless he was in the back of their squad car. "Shane might be putting on the charm, but that's what he does," Andrea said. "Carol's smart enough to know Shane's game…or at least I hope she is. If she ain't, she'll figure it out. He'll slime his way into the bed of any woman, long as she'll open her legs for him, but then he's gone before the sheets get cold."

"Kinda like me," Merle said. He grinned and poured himself another shot.

"Take that damn bottle," Daryl said to Andrea suddenly. "He needs ta sober up if he's got any hope at all a' makin' it ta work tomorrow."

Andrea reached and took the bottle.

"As much as I'd love to stay and chat with you assholes, I gotta go and earn my keep before Carol starts thinkin' that I'm the weak link around here," Andrea said. "Don't be so down about her not accepting rides, Daryl. I'm sure it ain't nothing personal. This is a small damn town and it ain't hard to get a reputation. She's still a married woman, and the last thing she probably needs is for someone to say she was running around with someone on the back roads, especially a stranger." Andrea started to walk off then, but she turned and spoke over her shoulder at Daryl again before leaving. "And don't worry about Shane too much. Even if he does lay it to her, ain't gonna damage the goods too much. He's not much to look at, if you catch my drift." She winked at him and walked off.

Daryl shook his head, images he didn't want suddenly invading. He took the shot that was sitting in front of him, the same one that had been there for a while and lit another cigarette. Carol was tending the men shooting pool now. He watched her for a moment and cast his glance back over the dark haired police officer. As much as he didn't like the idea of the man going out with Carol, he especially didn't like the idea of him using her. She seemed like a woman who had been used enough in her life. He hoped that maybe Andrea would be a decent enough friend to the woman to let her know that the man was simply trying to smarm his way into her bed.

"Fuckin' shit…" Daryl muttered to himself. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow the skinny redhead had gotten into his head. He'd always given Merle shit about getting fixated on women, but now it had happened to him and he didn't even know when or how it had happened. He cursed himself again and forced himself to turn on his stool where he couldn't see her. The thing that pissed him off most about this was that he didn't even feel like he was doing this right. He felt like whenever Merle had his mind set on a woman it was all about fucking her. He'd hear Merle giving damn speeches around whatever shit hole they lived in about one woman's ass, or another one's tits. Everything he ever said had something to do with how she had an ass that brought tears to his eyes or had tits that made him want to sit up and beg for milk. And yet Daryl didn't feel that way about Carol. He was such a pansy ass that he was sitting over here sulking over stale whisky about the fact that he wasn't going to get to ride in the cab of his truck alone with her while he took her to work, even though he'd fixed Andrea's car, he realized now, just for the opportunity. He could almost kick himself for being such a pussy.

Daryl cut his eyes over at Merle who was leaning sleepily on his hand. He knew he'd have to take him home soon, and now was just as good a time as any. He wanted to get out of the bar and away from Carol. She was probably mocking him in her mind right now just for thinking that she'd be accepting rides from him again.

"Wake tha fuck up," Daryl growled, pushing at Merle's shoulder. "We're goin' home. Ya gotta sober up 'cause we can't afford ta lose ya damn paycheck 'cause ya couldn't get'cha drunk ass outta bed."

Merle stirred and started to get off the stool.

"Take it easy, Derlina," Merle said. "Ya ain't gotta be such a lil' bitch about it."

Daryl got up and shoved at his brother's arm, leading him out of the bar and into the cool night air.


	15. Chapter 15

Daryl slipped out of the apartment before Merle and Andrea were awake. He figured he didn't have to worry about them now that he had Andrea's piece of shit car running. She could be responsible for getting Merle's hung over ass to work on time. He slipped down the back stairs of the building toward the parking lot, not paying much attention in the dark and nearly fell over the large solid object which caught his foot on one of the bottom steps. He stumbled, but caught himself after a few quick steps into the parking lot below. He turned around to find out what had been the cause of him nearly busting his ass to find Carol sitting in the dark, her legs folded across the bottom step.

"Fuck ya doin' in the damn staircase?" Daryl growled, his pride hurt by his near spill in front of her. It was only afterwards that he realized he'd probably kicked the hell out of whatever body part of hers his foot had made contact with. She rubbed at her leg and he realized it had been her thigh that had almost caused him to go spilling face first into the asphalt.

"Do you always come down the stairs like a bat out of hell?" She snapped back, still rubbing her leg.

"Sorry," Daryl said, suddenly feeling sorry for snapping the way that he had. "I weren't expectin' nobody ta be blockin' it up like that." He fumbled in his pocket and fished out a cigarette, as much to calm his nerves from almost having fallen as anything.

"Sorry for getting in your way," she answered back, her voice softened.

"What the hell ya doin' down here in the dark?" Daryl asked, lighting the cigarette.

"Waiting," she said.

Daryl couldn't figure out what she'd be waiting on. The sun would be up very soon, but he didn't know too many people that would sit in rotting stairwells and wait for the sun.

"What'cha waitin' on?" He asked.

"Shane Walsh," Carol replied. She got to her feet and stepped closer to him. He could make her out better since the single bulb that was apparently meant to light the entire area only really illuminated the spot that he was standing in, and consequently the one that she had just stepped into.

Daryl involuntarily curled his lip a little at the mention of the name. He didn't even want to know why she was outside in the dark waiting on him.

"I'm babysitting for Michonne today," Carol said, apparently not thinking it necessary for Daryl to speak in order to continue the conversation. He drew off of his cigarette. "Shane's going to drive me over there so I don't have to walk the whole way."

"Good for you," Daryl said. He flicked what was left of his cigarette on the ground and turned to start toward his truck.

"Something wrong?" Carol asked him. He turned back. He'd thought that he'd hidden his expression from her, but apparently he hadn't.

"Just don't wanta be late for work," he growled. "Glad ya found a ride."

Daryl turned again and heard Carol's feet on the pavement. A cool hand caught him on the arm and turned again. She was grasping the upper part of his arm. The sun was beginning to shed some light on the scenery around him, and her hair glistened in what little bit of light there was. She looked like she was concerned.

"Did I make you mad?" She asked. Daryl shrugged her hand off his arm.

"Who the hell are you that ya could make me mad?" He asked. He realized as soon as he said it that he hadn't done a very good job of making his voice sound convincing that he wasn't bothered. He knew good and well that she didn't want to accept a ride from him because she thought she was better than him. And maybe that Shane character was a better man to give her a ride, but Daryl figured it wasn't any of her concern how he felt about it.

Carol stepped back a little from him. She looked hurt, but Daryl didn't feel like apologizing. He didn't know what she wanted from him. He didn't know her and he didn't owe her anything.

"I'm sorry," she said, "if I've done something to upset you."

"Ya ain't fuckin' upset me," Daryl said. "I gotta go ta work."

He noticed the police cruiser pull into the parking lot a few spots away from them. Shane was driving it and he had the driver's side window rolled down.

"Ya ride's here," Daryl said.

Carol didn't respond. She simply nodded at him, gave him one last concerned look, and turned toward the car. He went around to the driver's side door of his truck and got in, slamming it shut. He sat there a minute and watched as Shane backed his car out of the parking space and pulled forward, turning onto the road. Daryl cranked the truck and backed out, steering his own vehicle in the opposite direction.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" Carol asked Andrea. They'd closed down the bar already, and now they were busy washing the dishes in the back so that they could finally go home. It was Carol's second night working there in a row, and though she loved Michonne's girls, she was almost dead on her feet.

"No," Andrea replied, coming over with another tub of dirty glasses which she sat by the sink where Carol was washing. "I'm off for two days. Mary Ann is working tomorrow night, though. Are you the lucky one that gets to train her?"

"I don't suppose so," Carol said. "I'm off for two days too. I've got to work tomorrow afternoon at Lula's. Maybe Loretta's going to train Mary Ann."

"I'd be just fine if she did," Andrea said. She walked over to the sink beside Carol and started rinsing glasses. "I'd be fine if she didn't put her on the schedule with me at all."

"What's wrong with Mary Ann?" Carol asked. She knew of the girl, mostly by name, but she didn't know anything about besides the fact that she was related to Shane and only wanted to work part time so she wouldn't put in nearly the nights and hours that either one of them put in at The Watering Hole.

"I don't guess there's a damn thing wrong with her," Andrea said, "but she's not the kind of person that I want to be around. Little Miss Rich Pants doesn't need this fuckin' job. She's just doin' it to get pocket money to spend."

Carol couldn't help but notice the bite in Andrea's voice. She didn't know if it was the fact that Mary Ann's family had money, and Andrea didn't, or what it could be that fueled the venom there, but it was clear that she had something against the girl.

"Maybe she just wants the work experience," Carol offered. Andrea turned to her and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Work experience at this hole in the wall? Wake up and smell the piss and cigarette ashes, Carol. This ain't the kinda place you work at for work experience. Two kinds of people work at places like this. The kind that can't do any better for themselves, and the kind that are just looking to pick up a couple of extra dollars until they move on to better things. Mary Ann won't work here three weeks, not if she gets ahold of some handsy bastard or gets beer spilled on her. Lord forbid someone pukes on her or she's gone in an hour," Andrea said.

Carol didn't know how to respond to the woman. She knew why she was working there. There wasn't much for her besides waitressing in Sweet Junction. Ed had made sure that she never got the education she'd intended to get, and though she wasn't dumb by any means, businesses weren't going to hire you just on your word that you were bright enough to figure out what they wanted you to do. Carol planned to go to school, as soon as she could afford it, but for now the jobs that she had were going to have to do. She didn't know, though, about Mary Ann's situation.

"Does it really matter why she works here?" Carol asked finally.

"Not if ya don't mind working with someone that's looking down their nose at you the whole damn time," Andrea replied. She set to work drying some of the glasses they'd finished and Carol dumped the rest of the dirty ones into the soapy water in front of her. She wondered if Mary Ann would look down her nose at her. In fact, now she wondered _who_ was looking down on her.

"Maybe it won't be that bad," Carol offered.

"Not for you it won't," Andrea said.

"What makes us any different?" Carol asked. Andrea stopped what she was doing and turned to face Carol then, her hands going to her hips.

"Do you honestly think that you and I are the same?" Andrea asked.

Carol shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess so," she said. Andrea scoffed.

"Really, Carol? You're little Carol Ann McAlister, sweetheart of Sweet Junction High. Bless your heart, your parents died when you were young and then you went and married Ed. Sorry to break it to ya, but now you're just sweet little Carol Ann McAlister that's getting herself out of a bad situation. People see you here and they're singing your praises for working so damn hard to make a better life for yourself. People see me here, and well, they're not too surprised," Andrea said.

Carol was struck by what Andrea said. She didn't want people feeling sorry for her and she certainly didn't think she was some kind of person worthy of praise for what she was doing. She did want to get herself out of a bad situation, but that didn't make her a hero, at least not in her opinion.

"So you see me as a bad person for being here?" Carol asked. She tried to bite back the emotions that were swelling up inside her.

Andrea sighed and turned back to drying dishes.

"No, Carol, I don't see you as a bad person. We're just not from the same kind of place," Andrea said.

"We're both working at The Watering Hole," Carol said. "We both live in Sweet Junction Apartments. How different can we be?"

"The Watering Hole isn't who you _are_ Carol, and Sweet Junction Apartments is just a stop for you," Andrea said. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. We're just different, that's all. This, all of this, is some kind of part time gig for you. This is as good as it fuckin' gets for me."

"It could be as good as it gets for me too," Carol said. "But you know what, Andrea? It's better than what I had."

Carol turned back to washing the dishes. She couldn't keep the tears from welling up in her eyes, so she tried to keep from looking back at the blonde. She didn't look down her nose at anybody, but suddenly she felt like Andrea was accusing her of that. All the years that she'd been married to Ed she'd spent hanging her head in public just because she didn't want to see the pity in their eyes at the fact that she hadn't been strong enough to leave a man that would beat her. Now here she was, washing dishes at a roach infested bar, and she was being talked down to by Andrea because her life hadn't been _hard_ enough. Suddenly she felt like this was something she couldn't win.

"I'm sorry," Andrea said softly after a moment. "I didn't mean to be a bitch about it. I just don't like the idea of Mary Ann Walsh working here and I took it out on you. I know that it had to suck being married to Ed."

Carol sniffed back some of the tears and wiped her nose with her arm. She still didn't look up at the blonde.

"And I'm sorry that you got treated like shit in high school," Carol said. "But we're not in high school anymore. The same people have had just as much shit to say about my situation as they've had to say about yours, the words were just different."

"Maybe you're right," Andrea said. "Look, can I take it back?"

Carol looked at her then. Andrea did look sorry, but Carol hoped it wasn't simply because she was crying.

"You can't take things back," Carol said. "We're not on the playground. I do accept your apology, though. I don't think I'm any better than you, but on the same note, I don't think you're any better than me."

Andrea nodded at her.

"I guess we've all got our shit, right?" Andrea said, half smiling. Carol smiled in response and nodded. "Same shit, different shovels," Andrea said. "Let's get these fuckin' dishes done and I'll drive you back to the apartments. Merle left the car and I promised Rick I'd make sure ya got home in one piece."

Carol snickered.

"At least you don't have to have a babysitter all the time," Carol said. Andrea didn't respond. "I saw Daryl this morning, but I noticed he didn't come in tonight."

"Some nights he comes, others he doesn't," Andrea said.

"He seemed mad or something this morning. I almost tripped him, so I guess he was mad about that," Carol said.

"Almost tripped him?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah, I was waiting on my babysitter and he didn't see me in the stairs outside the apartments. He stopped to talk a minute, but then when I mentioned I was waiting on Shane he got mad again and left," Carol said. She finished rinsing the last of the dishes and started handing them to Andrea to dry. When she looked at her, she noticed Andrea was wearing a smirk on her face.

"Why were you waiting on Shane?" Andrea asked. "You two got something going on that Sweet Junction ain't picked up on yet?"

"No," Carol said, "of course not! He was giving me a ride to Michonne's house. I watched her girls while she was at work today."

Andrea nodded.

"Did you tell Daryl that's why you were waiting on Shane?" Andrea asked.

"Well, yeah…" Carol said.

"Maybe Daryl feels a little like I did," Andrea said. "Maybe he thinks that you were too good to take a ride from him, but you were just fine accepting one from Shane Walsh. It's easy to get your feelings hurt when you think someone is looking down on you, you know?"

Carol hadn't thought about it. She'd thought that Daryl had been sweet offering her a ride the other morning to Michonne's house. She certainly had never meant to hurt his feelings when she told him that she couldn't accept rides from him. It was only because it could come back to hurt her in court that she'd done it. She didn't mean for him to think that it was any slight on him. If anything, she'd thought he might be relieved to know he didn't have to feel obligated to go out of his way to take her anywhere. He certainly didn't owe her anything, she hardly knew him.

"Do you really think that's what it was?" Carol asked. "Michonne said that Ed might try to say that I had something going on with someone if anyone saw me riding with a man. Shane's a police officer, like Rick, so it's a different situation. I certainly didn't mean to make Daryl think I was putting him down."

"I don't know for sure," Andrea said, cutting her eyes at Carol, "but I would guess that might be at least some of the problem."

"I don't want him to think that," Carol said. "He seems like a nice guy. I guess I should apologize to him. Hopefully I'll be able to afford some kind of car of my own soon, and then I won't have to take rides from anyone."

Andrea smiled at her, and Carol wasn't entirely sure why she was wearing the smirk that she was wearing. Andrea nodded at her after a second.

"Daryl is a nice guy," she said. "You should tell him why you didn't want to take the ride. He's the sensitive type, gets his feelings hurt pretty easy. He'd probably appreciate it if you took a moment to explain that you weren't just looking down on him, you know?"

Carol nodded at her.

"Fine, I'll talk to him the next time he's in here, unless I see him before then," Carol said.

"So you sure there's nothing going on with you and Shane Walsh?" Andrea asked, cutting her eyes toward Carol again. Carol started to put away some of the dried glasses, yawning a little.

"No," she said. "What could there be going on?"

"Well, you're a woman, he's a man…" Andrea said.

"And that's how rumors get started," Carol said. "There's nothing going on, besides, I'm not even the kind of woman that Shane would look twice at."

"And why would you say that?" Andrea asked.

"Shane's a handsome guy, and he's pretty charming. I bet he gets lots of pretty girls," Carol said.

"Oh Christ! You're one of those, aren't you?" Andrea said. She walked over to the sink and took one of the buckets that they carried out to mop the tables. Carol grabbed the other after putting a glass on the shelf and followed after her.

"One of what?" Carol asked, beginning to wipe down a table beside the one that Andrea had chosen.

"One of those pretty girls that insists that she's not pretty and no one would ever think she was," Andrea said. "I can't stand that."

"I'm not," Carol said. "And I'm not looking for Shane to look at me anyway. I'm done with men, you can mark my word on that."

Andrea scoffed at her and moved to another table.

"I am!" Carol protested.

"Whatever…" Andrea said. "You just watch out for Shane, though. He gets lots of girls, alright, but he's only in it for the night."

Carol moved to another table. She had heard a little about Shane's reputation, but in general she tried to ignore the gossip chain in Sweet Junction. She knew that things could get twisted very easily and very quickly around there.

"Is that really true?" She asked.

"Believe you me, it's true," Andrea said. "Just watch out if you don't want to be a notch in his bedpost."

Carol chuckled.

"Thanks for the tip," she said.

"No problem," Andrea said. "You want the truth about people around here, the dirty truth, just ask me. I can tell you about some of the dirty little secrets of the fine upstanding citizens of this town. Same assholes that think they're too good to piss on the likes of me just because I don't cram my skeletons in the closet."

Carol didn't doubt that a good number of reputable people around Sweet Junction more than likely had less than perfect track records, and she also didn't doubt that working at a place like The Watering Hole would eventually lead you to learn a lot of dirty little secrets.

"You 'bout done?" Andrea asked after a moment. Carol finished the table that she was wiping down.

"Yeah, I guess this place is as clean as it'll get," Carol said. She yawned again. She was so ready to get to bed that she felt like her head was screaming at her.

"It's as clean as it'll get 'til someone burns it down," Andrea said.

They went to the back and both of them dumped out their buckets and hung their rags to dry. Carol headed to the door and waited as Andrea shut out the lights. They stepped outside together and Andrea locked the door behind them. Carol followed her to her car and crawled in the passenger seat. It wasn't far to their apartments, but she was glad that Andrea had the car tonight. Sometimes they walked, but as tired as she was, she wasn't sure she'd make it there without falling out on the sidewalk and sleeping there.

Once they got to the apartments, both of them made their way up the stairs together. Carol fumbled for her keys and watched as Andrea opened the door of the apartment she was staying in without a key.

"You don't lock your door?" Carol asked.

Andrea half smiled at her.

"What the hell for? Ain't none of us got shit worth stealin'," she said. "But don't tell anybody that, we don't want anybody getting their hands on our valuables now that the secret's out."

Carol smiled at her.

"Your secret's safe with me. Goodnight, Andrea, thanks for the ride," Carol said.

"Night, Carol," Andrea said, slipping in her apartment and closing the door. Carol made her way into her own apartment, flipping on the light as she passed through the door. She closed the door, locked it with the deadbolt, and chained it with the chain that Michonne had insisted she put on it.

Carol passed through the apartment undressing as she went. She brushed her teeth, stopping a moment to examine the fading bruises on her face. It wouldn't be too terribly long before the evidence of Ed was a memory and not something she had to face every time she looked in a mirror. She realized she'd almost forgotten what her face even looked like without bruises, and the thought excited her a little to be returning to that.

She switched off the bathroom light and pulled on her nightgown. She set her alarm and crawled in bed.

As she was drifting off to sleep, Carol thought about all that Andrea had said. She liked Andrea, and she no longer believed half of what she'd heard about her. She didn't think that Andrea was some kind of prudish virgin by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn't think she was some kind of woman without morals or without any kind of standards. She seemed like a good enough person, she'd just been hurt a lot in her life, and Carol could understand how that could make you feel. She also thought about Daryl and made her mind up that she would apologize to him the next time she saw him. She didn't want him thinking that she saw herself as better than him, or even that she saw Shane Walsh as better than him.

Carol wasn't really sure, anymore, if she believed it was possible for anyone to actually be any better than anyone else. Everything about your life was a matter of circumstances and your circumstances didn't make you better or worse than anyone else. They simply made you different. She hadn't been any more in control of her circumstances than anyone else, and she didn't want to be judged because of them. The least she could do was let Daryl know, and anyone else who might doubt it, for that matter, that she wasn't going to judge them because of theirs.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: I wanted to thank you all for all your positive reviews and messages. I'm really enjoying playing around with the town of Sweet Junction and my future plans for our characters and I'm thrilled at all the positive response that the story has gotten. I really didn't know if it would be positively received, given that it's so dramatically AU from the show, but everyone has been really supportive! **

**I just wanted to give my thanks to you all! **

**I hope you enjoy!**

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Michonne was almost done with this day. It wasn't so much that she was actually done with her work, as much as she was just tired of being in the office. At this very moment she wanted to go home, open a bottle of wine, and run a bubble bath. That wasn't going to happen though. She had too much to do and she already had evening plans, not to mention the girls would never stand for her even suggesting something like down time for a bubble bath. The closest she came to that these days was when Anjelica soaked her in Mr. Bubble by splashing around too much in the tub.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall. She was almost done here. She had a few more things to wrap up and she could drop off paperwork with Amy. Amy could do all the driving around and delivering things, that's what they paid the girl for anyway. Michonne was particularly pleased that one of the items she had to send out were the divorce papers for Carol. Ed's lawyer would have them by tomorrow morning, and Ed would know about them soon enough.

Michonne finished what she had to do at her desk, packed the rest of the papers into her briefcase, and got up. Before stepping out of the office she pulled on her jacket and switched off the desk lamp. Her father was already gone. These days he left usually by two, but sometimes he surprised her and stayed later if there was something of particular interest that crossed his desk. She made her way through the building and found Amy kicked back in the office chair, her feet on the desk, reading a magazine. Michonne cleared her throat as she rounded the corner and the girl quickly sat up.

"Are you leaving?" Amy asked. Michonne knew the girl was counting on being able to go home early today, but that wasn't happening.

"I am," Michonne said. "I've got an appointment to speak with a possible character witness for a client, so I need to make it to that on time. I've got some paperwork here that needs to be mailed." She dropped a bundle on the counter. "After that I need you to run this to county. They're expecting you," she passed Amy the divorce paperwork. "This has to go there today, and I mean that. It's very important. You can take off after you've delivered it."

"All the way to county?" The girl whined. Michonne fought the urge to roll her eyes. Amy was a sweet girl, but she was a bit spoiled. She seemed to think that the idea behind a summer job was to get a paycheck with little to no effort on her part.

"Today," Michonne said. "I'll be calling over there later to make sure it was delivered, so don't dawdle."

The girl sighed and took the envelope.

"Yes ma'am," she said.

"I'll see you tomorrow. I won't be in until sometime after lunch," Michonne said, smiling at the girl. "You can head out now too."

Michonne slipped out the door and got in the car. She had an appointment with a Mr. Tyreese Scott. She'd never met the man, but he owned Scott's Construction Company and had only recently moved to town. He was working on a new housing development not too far from where she lived. She'd passed by it a few times and admired the new little houses. They were cute, almost like something off of television. What mattered to her right now, though, was that he was Merle Dixon's current employer. She was hoping that he might have a few nice words to say about the man and that he might be willing to serve as some kind of character witness. If Merle Dixon was going to court for his little stunt against Ed Peletier, he was going to need all the help he could get. She'd never seen a paper trail of minor offenses that was quite as long as the one he had following him around.

She was also interested, of course, in meeting anyone new to Sweet Junction. It wasn't often that someone came there willingly. Usually you lived in Sweet Junction because you were born in Sweet Junction, and your parents lived there because your grandparents did. It wasn't exactly anyone's destination on a road trip.

Michonne had looked a little bit of information up on the man, though. His business was apparently thriving pretty well and he did jobs all over, not just in Sweet Junction. He even had a small branch of his business just outside Atlanta. It appeared that he wasn't interested in just the petty stuff, and it made her wonder why out of all the places he could have chosen to live, based on his work experience, he would come to such a wasteland as their fair hamlet.

He was also, consequently, Ed's only current competition in the way of construction, and that made Michonne like the man a little more right off the bat. Michonne doubted she could win the business itself for Carol, but she could probably get Carol a good deal of money from Ed's business. That would be just enough to make her satisfied, and also just enough to make Ed Peletier struggle to keep his shirt. Throw into the mixture the fact that one Mr. Tyreese Scott might run what was left of his petty ass business into the ground, and Michonne might just kiss the man for something he didn't even know he was doing.

Michonne pulled up to the address that the man had given her over the phone earlier. Normally at construction sites it was normal to see about two or three people actually working while the others all stood around looking like they were supervising or something. That wasn't the case here. It looked to Michonne like everyone was hard at work. They apparently didn't get off work early, either. She'd been worried that the men might lay off early and leave Mr. Scott to be anxious to go, but no one even seemed aware that it was likely only a half hour until their workday was through. Michonne sat in her car a moment and scanned the workers. She spotted Merle without too much effort. He was working, though, so at least she didn't feel like he was one of those sorry assholes who had a rap sheet a mile long _and_ frequently changed employment because they were too lazy to do their jobs.

Michonne got out of her car and stood by it for a moment. She didn't know what Mr. Scott looked like, so she wasn't sure what she was looking for. There was nobody within sight that was clearly superior to everyone else out there, so she was beginning to worry that her only method of finding the man was going to be interrupting the workers and asking them where she might locate him.

She didn't have to wonder long, though because a man began to cross the lot coming toward her after a few minutes. From behind her shades she couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate him. He was filthy and sweaty, obviously owing to an honest day's work, but he was certainly sporting the well-defined muscles of a man who wasn't afraid to use his hands. She stood still by her car and felt a little ashamed at the fact that she was admiring the man's arms and shoulders so much like a schoolgirl instead of like the respectable mother of two that she was supposed to be. If this was Mr. Tyreese Scott, she certainly had a new appreciation for him. He wasn't just the owner of Scott's Construction Company, but apparently a worker as well. Nothing quite like brains _and_ muscle.

"Are you Mrs. Williams?" The man asked, approaching. He pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his hands before offering his right hand to Michonne. She took it and shook his hand, noticing his grip.

"I'm Michonne Williams," she said. "I'm Merle Dixon's attorney."

"Tyreese," the man said. He smiled and Michonne couldn't help but smile at him in response. "Would you like to step into one of the houses? The one just over there is pretty much what we're using as an office right now. At least it's air conditioned."

Michonne nodded, smiling again.

"That sounds nice," she said. It was hot. It was always hot in the summer time in Sweet Junction. The evenings might cool down a bit, especially in the shade, but Georgia was Georgia and the devil could sweat during the days.

"This way," Tyreese said, motioning with his hand toward one of the houses. It wasn't far to walk and Michonne followed him, only occasionally cursing her high heels to herself when the ground was unsteady.

She followed Tyreese into one of the newly constructed homes. As soon as they were inside it was clear that it was being used as an office of sorts. There was an island built into the kitchen that was covered with papers, most of which she was sure she wouldn't understand if she tried. Everyone had their specialty, and construction certainly wasn't one of hers.

The house was cute, though, and she could imagine that they would sell well if they were decently priced. There were a few old developments in town that were only a few cockroaches away from being condemned and torn down. Perhaps Tyreese's goal was to upgrade the poor people that lived in them into more habitable dwellings. He might, she thought, even get the contract to tear down and rebuild the old developments if he was lucky. She'd far rather it go to him than to Ed.

"I'm afraid we don't have much in the way of seating," Tyreese said apologetically, leaning against a kitchen counter.

"It's fine," Michonne assured him. "The houses are nice."

"Thank you," Tyreese said. "They're actually based off my designs. I just thought they fit the landscape."

"What made you decide to come to Sweet Junction?" Michonne asked.

"I passed through here on accident one time," Tyreese said. "I thought it was such a charming little town. I almost didn't believe it was real. It seemed like something out of an old movie. I was in college at the time, but I decided that when I got settled I'd like to live somewhere like this. You know, the kind of town where everybody seems to know everybody else." He smiled and Michonne mirrored the smile.

"Someone voluntarily coming to Sweet Junction," she said. "That's not a story that you hear every day."

"You're from here, then?" Tyreese asked. Michonne nodded.

"Most the people in Sweet Junction are from here," she said. "How long have you been here?"

Tyreese shrugged.

"I've been setting up the business here for a while, but I only moved here about a month ago. The first house we finished in the development is mine, actually," he said. "I haven't gotten to know the town well, though, I've been keeping busy with work."

"I know how that can be," Michonne said. She realized, then, that as nice as the idle conversation was, and as long as she might like to stand there and prompt the man to smile at her, she was actually there on business. "So, Merle Dixon…" she started.

"What do you want to know about him?" Tyreese asked.

"Well, I know he's only been working for you for a bit, but how's he working out?" Michonne asked.

Tyreese seemed to consider the question and moment and then shrugged a little.

"Merle's a hard worker," Tyreese said. "He's here before we start in the morning and he's here when we pack up for the day. He usually takes his lunch here, so he'll pick up little jobs during his lunch break sometimes."

Michonne nodded her understanding.

"So you'd say he's a good employee?" She asked. Tyreese chuckled a little.

"Yeah, he's a good employee. One of the best I've got out here," he replied.

"How does he get along with everyone else?" Michonne asked.

Tyreese responded with another shrug.

"There haven't been any problems. Merle likes to make fun, but everyone seems to appreciate that he's pretty easy to get along with. He can be noisy, but that's part of construction work as well," Tyreese said.

Michonne smiled and nodded again.

"That's good to hear," she said.

"Is Merle in trouble or something?" Tyreese asked. "I mean he's a good worker, but I don't need trouble around my business."

Michonne shook her head.

"Not exactly," she said. "He had a bit of an altercation with an individual and I'm trying to prove, if I have to, that the problem was more owing to the nature of the individual and not to Merle's character."

"Well, I haven't seen any trouble out of him," Tyreese said. "I think he likes to drink a little, and he likes to have some pretty racy conversations with some of the guys, but there's never been any trouble. He gets his work done and he seems to play well with others."

"That's mostly what I needed to hear," Michonne said. "Would you be willing, should the need arise, to either make a statement to that effect or perhaps even act as a character witness for Mr. Dixon?"

"As long as there are no surprises and that's all it is, I wouldn't mind that at all," Tyreese said. "I'd need advanced notice, of course, because I'd have to make arrangements."

"Of course," Michonne said. "We're a small town, and we mostly work with county when it comes to matters of court, but we follow all regular protocol."

"That would be fine, then," Tyreese said.

Michonne stood there a moment longer looking at the man. Then she realized that she was through talking and needed to take her leave of him.

"Well, thank you very much, Mr. Scott. I'll be in touch with you," she said, extending her hand. He shook it and smiled again.

"Tyreese," he said. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again. Sweet Junction doesn't exactly seem to be the kind of place that one gets lost easily."

Michonne smiled and shook her head.

"No, it isn't that," she said.

"I'll walk you back to your car," Tyreese said. "It's about time for me to tell the guys to knock off for the day anyhow."

Michonne nodded to him and turned to leave the kitchen of the small house with Tyreese following closely behind her.

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"And shoulders like a Greek god, I'm not even kidding!" Michonne said.

Carol cackled and quickly clasped her hand over her own mouth. She hadn't meant to be so loud, and they were trying to be conscious not to make too much noise and wake the girls.

Michonne was taking at least half the day off the next day and Carol didn't have to work, so Michonne had commanded that she spend the night with her as a girls' night to celebrate the fact that divorce papers were being served to Mr. Ed Peletier. They'd ordered Korean food and put the girls to bed early and now they were lounging in the living room floor, around the coffee table, in their pajamas, working steadily on their second bottle of wine.

Carol couldn't remember having ever drank so much in her life, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed herself as much as she was this evening. Michonne was telling her about some man that she met that day who had apparently tickled her fancy.

"You've had too much to drink," Carol said, unable to control her laughing.

"I am just getting started," Michonne protested. "As long as the girls stay down, we're good for the night and I thought ahead to pump enough milk that I don't even have to be sober when I wake up."

"So who was this guy, anyway? I mean some construction Adonis, I got that much, but who _is_ he?" Carol asked. She finished off the glass of wine that she'd been drinking and Michonne leaned over to refill her glass.

"The father of my future children," Michonne said. She laughed at herself, then, and Carol giggled in response. "Well…maybe not…he's a big guy…on second thought I might not want to have those babies…"

"So you're planning children with this man, does he know this?" Carol asked.

"Of course not," Michonne said. "He's probably forgotten the entire meeting. He's probably married. I bet he has a wife and a Collie."

"A Collie?" Carol asked.

"He's all about Sweet Junction being some kind of little movie town, so I bet he has a Collie named Lassie," Michonne said. She drained her own glass and immediately refilled it.

"And a son named Timmy?" Carol asked.

"Mmmmhmmm…" Michonne said, taking another drink of wine. "Except there are no wells in Sweet Junction for Timmy to fall in."

"Yes there are," Carol protested. "On the outskirsts of town there are wells at the farms."

"On the outskirsts?" Michonne asked, mocking Carol's slip of the tongue.

"You know what I mean," Carol said.

Michonne nodded.

"So how does it feel to know that Ed Peletier's about to be one sorry son of a bitch?" Michonne asked.

Carol smiled.

"Pretty damn good," she said. "I can't believe I didn't do this sooner."

"Well here's to now," Michonne said, lifting her glass. Carol brought hers up and they clanked the glasses together, both taking a swallow of wine.

"And here's to your newfound Greek god," Carol said. "May you have many imaginary babies together." She giggled and raised her glass. Michonne laughed and clanked hers to it. "So," Carol said after a moment, "now that you're having imaginary kids with this guy, is it safe to assume that you finally broke it off with Damion?"

Michonne nodded.

"I unloaded the asshole a while back," Michonne said. "Do you know he had the nerve to ask me if I could pick up his electric bill _again_? I told him that I wasn't trying to raise him too. Rumor has it he's sniffing around some girl that works over at the hospital. All I can say is I hope she knows what the hell she's getting into."

"Those little houses," Carol said. "Any idea when they're going to be on the market?"

"Are you making that kind of money working those waitressing jobs?" Michonne asked.

"No," Carol said, "at least not yet, but I'm thinking ahead. Maybe your boyfriend could get me a deal on one. Then you could come over to my house and come up with excuses to borrow things from him."

Michonne laughed.

"OK, you've got to stop, he's not my boyfriend and if you keep saying that you'll slip up somewhere and the poor man will be mortified to find out that I was running my mouth," Michonne said. "I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find out how much the houses are going for, though, if you think you're ready for a mortgage."

"If I get the money from Ed that you keep promising me then I might not even _need_ a mortgage," Carol said.

"How is life in Sweet Junction Apartments, by the way? Are all the roaches keeping up with the rent?" Michonne asked.

"Stop it!" Carol said. "I like my apartment."

"And your neighbors?" Michonne asked.

"I don't know anyone in the building besides Daryl, Merle, and Andrea," Carol said.

"What's that like, anyway?" Michonne asked. "Rowdy crowd?"

Carol shrugged.

"No, not really. I mean I never really hear them," Carol said. "And it's good that Andrea is living across the hall. I never have to go home alone from The Watering Hole."

"You really don't mind that job?" Michonne asked, helping herself to another glass of wine. Carol drained the one she had and watched as Michonne refilled it. She decided not to point out that a nice splash of it ran onto the table.

"I don't, actually," Carol said. "The place is gross, but the job is a job."

"You have to work with Andrea," Michonne said.

"What's wrong with her? She doesn't bother me too much," Carol said.

"She was always such a bitch in high school," Michonne said.

"Most of us aren't who we were in high school," Carol said. She sat there for a moment and then chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, she's still a bitch when she wants to be, but so are you."

Michonne scoffed at her.

"Carol! I am not a bitch!" Michonne protested.

"You kinda are," Carol said, giggling. Michonne laughed.

"OK, you might be right," she said. "I've actually always been kind of proud of my bitchiness." Michonne said, smirking. She sat there for a moment, contemplating her wine glass. "I don't really know much about Andrea anymore, but her little sister is a spoiled brat."

Carol considered it. She knew Amy, but she didn't know her well. She'd always been that kid around town that you heard about because they won every kind of award that the school ever gave out and they seemed to win every pageant or competition they entered as well.

"I don't think Andrea and Amy are anything alike," Carol said. "Andrea never talks about her."

"What about the Dixon men?" Michonne asked.

"What about them?" Carol responded.

"What are they like? I mean I've only ever seen them on their best behavior," Michonne said.

Carol shrugged.

"They're alright. I think I hurt Daryl's feelings because you said I couldn't ride with him," Carol said.

"You said that like I'm your mother," Michonne said. Carol laughed at her.

"Sometimes I wonder…" she said.

"I'm sure he'll get over it," Michonne said.

Carol shrugged.

"Still, I hated having to hurt his feelings," Carol said.

"Why does you not riding with him hurt his feelings?" Michonne asked.

"I guess he thinks that I was putting him down. You know, that I might look at him like _you_ do because he lives in Sweet Junction Apartments," Carol said.

"I don't look at him any way because he lives in Sweet Junction Apartments," Michonne said. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had a crush on him."

"I do not!" Carol protested. Michonne raised her eyebrows at her. She smiled.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," she said. She smirked again. "And too quickly. _Do you_ have a crush on him?"

"No!" Carol said. She picked up her glass and took another swallow, eyeing Michonne over the top of the glass. Michonne smirked at her again. "And you can stop making that face. I don't!" The smirk lingered on Michonne's lips. She raised her eyebrows again. "What?" Carol said, putting the glass down. "I don't! Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" Michonne asked, a smile spreading across her face. "I'm not doing a single thing."

"You know what you're doing," Carol said. She laughed at Michonne's expression then. "Stop it right now!"

Michonne nodded a little and laughed suddenly, obviously unable to hold it back any longer.

"Are you planning his imaginary babies?" Michonne asked.

"Stop! It's not even like that!" Carol protested. "He's just a sweet guy, and he's sensitive, so I feel bad that I hurt his feelings."

"Did you want a boy or a girl?" Michonne asked, taking another sip of wine. She smiled at Carol again.

Carol reached behind her on the couch and grabbed one of the throw pillows, flinging it in Michonne's direction.


	17. Chapter 17

Daryl wasn't even sure that he liked meatloaf. He really couldn't remember having had it before, and it wouldn't surprise him any if he never had. His mother had never exactly been any kind of four star cook or anything. Before she died she seemed to consider it fixing dinner if she managed to put the cereal box on the counter where he could reach it before she passed out from out drinking too much wine. Daryl had eaten more toaster waffles in his life than he cared to admit.

Still, when Andrea had asked him what he wanted for dinner, he'd blurted out meatloaf without even really being sure what the hell it was. It's what all the families on television were eating all the damn time. Every time he saw some of those fictional families inviting someone over for dinner it seemed that they always served meatloaf. He'd reasoned that it must be very good since all those women seemed to know their way around the kitchen, and they were always making it.

Andrea had raised her eyebrows at him a little when he'd offered up the suggestion, but moments later she'd shrugged and told him he was going to have to go shopping if that's what he wanted for dinner. Daryl didn't mind it so much. He was going to have to go shopping no matter what they had because they'd nearly eaten their way through all the groceries that they had around the apartment.

So now he was at the A and P with the list that Andrea had given him. He'd easily found most everything on the list, including a special pan that she needed and had instructed him to get in this small aisle where they had crammed about three of everything Daryl imagined any kitchen could need. There were just a few things left to pick up, but one of them had Daryl stumped. He had no idea what he was looking for and he'd circled the store at least two times hoping that the item would magically jump from the list and fall in front of his face.

As Daryl pushed his cart down the refrigerated aisle to get the eggs Andrea had requested, he studied the list again and tried to make out what the hell the mystery item could be. It was written carefully in the section she'd dedicated to his meatloaf so he didn't want to go back without it. His meatloaf might not be as good as it was on television if he couldn't find it.

If Daryl had been paying attention, then he probably wouldn't have run into someone's cart with enough force to cause a crash that was likely audible throughout the small grocery store. When the crash occurred and Daryl's cart came to an abrupt stop, his vision jerked up from the list.

He wasn't expecting it to settle on Carol, though. It had been her cart that he'd treated like the opposition in a demolition derby. She was smiling at him, still clutching the handle bar of the cart.

"You win," she said.

Daryl nervously smiled at her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shoulda been payin' attention."

Carol snickered a little and he backed up, pulling his cart away from hers. She pushed hers forward just a bit and plucked something out of the section next to him.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Daryl said, backing up a little more to give her room.

"Daryl, watch out, there's someone behind you," Carol said softly, smiling again. Daryl glanced over his shoulder at a very short, very old woman who was pushing her cart away from him and glaring at him through her glasses. The lens on the glasses were so thick that they magnified her eyes, and for a moment Daryl felt like he was being silently scolded for his clumsiness by an ancient owl buying butter sticks in the A and P.

Daryl turned around nervously again and snickered.

"It's like a damn traffic jam in here," he said.

"It can get that way," Carol said. "Making dinner?" She asked, glancing into his cart.

"Andrea is," Daryl said. "I been tryin' ta figure out what the hell she's got written down here, but either I can't read or she can't write, and I reckon it could be a combination a' both."

"Let me see," Carol said. She left the front of her cart and walked over to Daryl, leaning around him and looking closely at the list. Daryl was distracted for a minute. He'd never been quite this close to her and she smelled wonderful. Clean and flowery. He wanted to smell her hair, but he knew that she'd notice if he did that and was likely to think he was some kind of freak if he told her that she smelled good and he'd just wanted to sniff her. "Where is it?" She asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Daryl cleared his throat a little and pointed at the list. Carol wrapped her hand around his and pulled the list closer to her to make out the chicken scratch that was Andrea's handwriting. Carol's hands were soft and cool closed around his.

She giggled a little.

"Meatloaf?" She asked.

"Yeah," Daryl said.

"How traditional!" Carol said.

Daryl felt his cheeks burn. He didn't know why it embarrassed him, but it did. He wondered if she was making fun of their dinner selection, and he felt a little ashamed to know that he'd been the one to suggest it. Maybe meatloaf was a bad thing. Carol didn't seem to notice his embarrassment, though.

"The problem with your list," Carol said, "is that it's written just as much in brand names as it is in items." She looked up at Daryl then he looked at her, their faces only inches apart. She was smirking at him, but he tried to draw his eyes away from her mouth and look squarely at her eyes.

"What'cha mean?" He asked.

"Well, for paper towels she didn't write 'paper towels', she wrote the brand name. Same thing for coffee…" Carol said. She glanced into his cart and moved away from him a little then. "Looks like you followed all that fine, though," she said. She shrugged at him. "All you're missing is the bread crumbs. That's your big mystery item."

Daryl balled the list up in his hand and shoved it in his front pocket.

"Thanks," he said. He was unsure of what else to say and he was a little embarrassed both over what was obviously a failure on Andrea's part to make a proper list and over the fact that he hadn't known that what she'd scribbled down was some kind of bread crumb.

"No problem," Carol said. "Think you can find it now?"

Daryl had no idea if he could or he couldn't, but he wanted to escape from where he was.

"Yeah, I just couldn't make out the handwriting," he said, trying to excuse himself. He quickly whipped his cart to the side, attempting to move out of her way and to escape from the gaze she held him locked in. He almost hit an old man shuffling by and the man grumbled something at him as he squeaked out an apology. He heard Carol giggle, but he didn't look back at her. He pushed his cart forward and attempted to disappear as quickly as possible.

"Daryl!" He heard Carol call. He turned and looked back over his shoulder. She was standing back at her cart now.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"I didn't see potatoes on your list," Carol said. "If you don't have any at home, you might want to pick some up. Everyone knows that meatloaf goes best with mashed potatoes."

Daryl nodded slightly at her and continued onward in search of breadcrumbs and now potatoes. He didn't know what the hell you were supposed to eat meatloaf with, and now he wondered if Andrea even knew what the hell she was doing since she apparently hadn't known that meatloaf goes best with mashed potatoes.

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Daryl paid for his groceries and pushed the cart out through the parking lot. He saw the owl woman again pushing a cart a few cars away from him and he decided he might as well make it up to her for having nearly run her over. He left his own cart for a moment and walked over, offering to help her load her groceries.

The tiny woman peered at him through her giant glasses and narrowed her little owl eyes before nodding and thanking him in a thick accent that was heavy laden with quivering sound that Daryl thought all old people made when they talked.

Daryl put the few bags of groceries into the old woman's car and nodded at her as he pushed her buggy toward one of the cart returns. The old woman thanked him and offered him a dollar, but he just smiled at her and waved his hand at her. He liked old people like that. He always tried to imagine what it would have been like to have grandparents and have a couple of little old people like the ones he saw around to call his own in some way. If he'd had a grandmother, he would have loaded her groceries in the car for her, but since he didn't, he could at least do it for the tiny owl.

Daryl returned her buggy and went to finish loading the last of his own food in the back of his truck. He pushed the buggy into the rack with the others and got in the truck, starting in the direction of the apartments.

He drove along the streets of Sweet Junction at a snail's pace, much like the other residents, looking around at the store fronts as though there were anything there that he didn't already consider run of the mill.

And then something got his attention. The first thing he noticed was stuff strewn across the sidewalk, and he slowed his truck momentarily from the crawl it was at to an even slower crawl. He heard, then, a sharp noise and realized that just up ahead there was a car parked into a spot beside the sidewalk and a man was standing out by it…a man that Daryl quickly identified as Ed Peletier. He wasn't alone, though, and he appeared to be trying to shove someone into the car. Daryl didn't have to even think for a moment to imagine who it was.

Daryl stopped the truck right where it was, momentarily appalled that no one in the area seemed to be coming out to see what was going on or stopping their car to offer any assistance at all in the situation. He opened the door of the truck and left it running in the street. If the fuckers of Sweet Junction wouldn't stop because Ed Peletier had the balls to try and beat his wife in broad daylight in the middle of the town, then they'd at least fucking stop because Daryl Dixon had made sure to angle his truck into both lanes and leave it running.

Daryl got out of the truck and made his way directly to the car where Ed was fighting with Carol. He could feel his blood boiling and by the time he'd closed the short distance he'd already come to terms with the fact that he was going to jail, whether or not they could pay bail.

"Get your fuckin' hands off her!" He growled as he came up. Ed stopped what he was doing momentarily and looked at Daryl, shocked. The asshole had obviously not been called out on his shit regularly.

"Get the fuck outta here," Ed growled back. Daryl glanced at Carol. He couldn't see much of her face because her hair was in it, but he could see enough to see that there was blood. One of Ed's hands was wrapped firmly around her throat, and the other had her by the arm.

"I said get your fuckin' hands off her," Daryl warned again. Ed smiled at him. Daryl decided that if snakes could smile, he was looking dead into the grin of a snake.

"Why don't you go on home, boy?" Ed asked. "I'm trying to talk to my wife here and it ain't no business of yours."

"I'm makin' it my business," Daryl said.

"We're just talking," Ed said, "it ain't got nothing to do with you." He shoved Carol forward again and she made a choking noise that made the hair on the back of Daryl's neck stand up. Daryl glanced around and noticed that there was one or two people who were pretending not to be paying them any attention.

"If that's what the hell ya call talkin'," Daryl said, "then I reckon you an' me's 'bout ta have a talk. I done told ya twice ta get'cha hands off her an' if I gotta tell ya again then I'm gonna do it speakin' your language 'cause I don't reckon ya can understand me."

"Daryl, go home…" Carol said.

"You better listen to her, boy," Ed said, smiling again. "She knows we just having a little chat here. You ever get you a set a balls big enough to find you a woman, and you'll understand they can get a little outta hand at times."

Daryl grabbed the man then, balling his fists up in his shirt. Anger washed over him and he threw his weight against him. Somehow they ended up on the ground, and Daryl wasn't entirely sure for a few moments that Carol hadn't gone down with them in the initial fall. He didn't care that they were in the middle of the street and he didn't care if God and the whole police force of the state of Georgia was watching. His main goal at the moment was to break Ed Peletier's skull open using the hot, black pavement that the city council had so graciously provided him.

"I'm…gonna…call…the…fuckin'…cops," Ed struggled to say as they rolled around fighting.

Daryl was so pissed that he couldn't keep track of the punches that he was throwing. He knew that he was receiving a few of his own, but for the most part he felt like Ed was spending his time trying to deflect the ones that he was throwing. The good citizens of the town, the same ones that hadn't called the police to report the fact that Ed would lay his hands on Carol in front of them, apparently didn't seem moved to save Ed either, nor to call the law.

"I want'cha ta fuckin' call 'em!" Daryl yelled, punching Ed in the face again. "Make sure they fuckin' get here ta see what'cha done, what'cha was gonna do!"

Somewhere in the back of his mind Daryl could hear Carol screaming. He wasn't sure if she was screaming at him, screaming at Ed, or screaming for someone to help, but she was screaming. If anything, the sound of her screaming just spurred Daryl on. He imagined all the damn times she'd probably screamed like that because of the asshole pinned under him, and he just wanted to hit him harder.

Daryl didn't know if they'd fought for minutes or for hours. His muscles were tired, but he wasn't going to stop until he had to. He felt, finally, tugging on the back of his arms and he gave into his tired muscles, allowing whoever was pulling on him to heave him to his feet. He didn't cast another look at Ed, he simply turned a little expecting to see that shithead Shane Walsh waiting to take him away in cuffs.

Who he saw, though, wasn't one of the cops. It was a black man that he hadn't seen before. The man looked at him with his brow furrowed and Daryl realized he'd been punched in the eye at least once because his vision in his left eye was a little blurry and he could feel it watering.

"Easy, man," the man said. "You trying to kill the man?"

Daryl nodded at the man defiantly.

"I was aimin' to," Daryl said. He became aware then of the sound of car cranking and he turned his head to see Ed pulling his car out of the parking spot that it was in and snaking around Daryl's truck and into the other lane of the road, cutting someone off who was also trying to get around Daryl's roadblock and being repaid with the sharp honking of a horn. And now Daryl was standing in the middle of the road, his truck idling in one lane with the nose barely in the other, and there were people slowly gathering around, though everyone gawked more than anything. "Carol…" Daryl said, starting to look for her.

Carol was standing on the sidewalk, her hands over her face. Daryl pulled himself loose from the man that was holding him and walked over to her. He didn't know what made him do it, but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. The action had been almost involuntary. The man walked over and stood awkwardly near them.

"Look, I don't know what just happened here, but maybe you ought to try to work this out a different way," the man said. "Maybe go home and cool down or something."

Daryl realized he couldn't talk. He didn't know what to say. As things were obviously calming down, people began walking again, the small crowd disappearing as quickly and silently as it had come.

Daryl pushed Carol away from him gently and grabbed her arms to pull her hands away from her face. She hissed and he realized that he had perhaps hit a tender spot.

"I'm sorry," he said. Without thinking he put his hands on either side of her head and tipped her face up, looking directly into her eyes for a second. She had obviously been crying, and sobs were still catching in her throat. Her lip was bleeding, as was her nose a bit, and her eye was starting to swell a little. Ed had gotten there before he had, that much was certain.

The man reappeared a moment later with a few shopping bags in his hands and some items tucked in his arms.

"These yours?" He asked. Daryl nodded at him.

"Can ya put it in the back a' the truck?" Daryl asked. The man nodded at him. Daryl turned back to Carol. "I know ya don't want ta ride with me, but'cha gonna right now. We got ta go an' take care a' this."

Carol's eyes danced a little and Daryl could see she was starting to cry again.

"Where are we going?" She asked. Daryl started around the truck, ignoring any of the cars that were trying to squeeze by him. One car honked a horn at them and Daryl shot them the finger.

"We're goin' ta the police station," Daryl said. "We're gonna fuckin' turn in Ed Peletier and hope his fuckin' ass ends up in jail."

"Daryl, you could get arrested for this!" Carol protested as Daryl opened the truck door and pushed her toward it.

"Fine with me," he said. "It'll give me the chance ta kick his sorry ass again if they dumb enough ta put us in the same damn cell. I weren't done no way."

Carol seemed to protest a moment longer and Daryl pushed at her shoulder, urging her into the truck. She finally got in and he closed the door, walking slowly around the front of the truck. As he came around the other side, the man was standing there.

"Do you need some help? I don't know what just happened, but I can call someone…" the man said. He still looked concerned, and Daryl imagined that anyone with an ounce of decency might have been concerned if they'd witnessed the scene.

Daryl clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think we're good," Daryl said. "She's got a shit for brains ex-husband an' I'm takin' her ta the police now ta turn him in for breakin' court orders. Ain't nothin' else ta see."

The man nodded his head and stood in front of Daryl for a second longer before relaxing his shoulders a little.

"Alright, man," the man said. "Good luck to you."

Daryl watched as the man walked off. He shot the finger at another car that decided to loudly protest his impromptu road block and walked to the truck door, climbing in. He closed the truck door and put the truck out of park, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it quickly.

"Really," Carol said, "you don't have to do this. Ed won't turn you into the cops because he doesn't want anyone telling them what happened here. You don't have to get into trouble over this…over me…"

"Stop beggin' an' shit," Daryl said. "Don't look good on ya. We're goin' ta talk ta the fuckin' cops an' that's all there is to it. If they lock me up, they lock me up," he said, taking a long drag off his cigarette and flicking some of the ash out the window. "Won't be the first damn time I been locked up, an' at least this is some shit I won't mind havin' linked ta my name."

"Why did you do that?" Carol asked. "You could have kept going, just like everybody else."

Daryl turned the truck onto one of the other roads, heading in the direction of the police department, before he answered.

"I did it 'cause it needed ta be done," Daryl said, "an' 'cause everybody else was just keepin' goin'."

Daryl liked to think that he'd have done the same thing for any woman in her position, and he likely would have broken up the disturbance for anyone he'd seen in a similar situation, but he kept it to himself that he was beginning to wonder if he'd have _felt_ exactly the same way if it had been anyone else. He'd seen a lot of men lay their hands on women in his life, and it always pissed him off to some degree, but he'd always responded by simply wanting to push the man around enough to get him to lose interest in bullying the woman he was roughing up. Today had been different. Today he hadn't just wanted Ed to leave her alone. He knew that he wouldn't have walked off, satisfied, if Ed had simply stopped what he was doing and let her go in peace. Seeing Ed with his hands on her like that had done something entirely different to Daryl. It had actually made him _want_ to beat Ed with everything he had in him and then borrow some from someone else to continue beating him. It wasn't a feeling that Daryl understood entirely, and he wasn't positive that he was completely comfortable with it. He certainly wasn't comfortable admitting it to Carol.


	18. Chapter 18

Daryl sat beside Carol in the uncomfortable chairs at the prison and waited for Rick to finish whatever phone call he was busy making. The woman at the reception desk stared at both of them and Daryl didn't have to wonder for a moment why. He'd forbidden Carol in the truck to do anything to clean up her face and he'd left his alone as well. They needed it to look every bit as bad as it could.

When Rick finally came out of his office he stood there a moment, awkwardly looking at the two of them and for a minute Daryl felt like he had when he was young and he'd been sent to the principal's office for something.

"OK," Rick said, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of them both. "Let me see if we can do this without interruption this time. You say that Ed attacked you, what happened exactly?"

"I was walking back to my apartment with my groceries," Carol said. "He pulled the car over and called to me. When I didn't stop he got out. I dropped what I had and started to run and he caught me. He was yelling and he…" she stopped and rolled her eyes toward Daryl and Daryl looked away from her. "He started hitting me and he was trying to force me into the car."

Rick squeezed at his temple.

"What was he yelling?" Rick asked.

"A lot," Carol said. "He was yelling mostly about me…about the divorce…that he wasn't going to let this happen. Is Michonne coming?"

Rick nodded.

"She's on her way," he said. "She'll be here as soon as she can." He sat there a moment and then turned to Daryl. "And how did you get involved in all this?"

"I saw it happenin'," Daryl said. "So I told him ta stop f-…messin' with her an' he wouldn't, so then we kinda tangled up."

"You tangled up? As in you jumped him?" Rick asked. "Why didn't anyone call us?"

"Wasn't nobody doin' nothin'," Daryl said. "What was I s'posed ta do? Let him fuckin' beat on her an' get her in the car while I tried ta find some damn body that gave a shit enough ta call the cops?"

"Now calm down," Rick said. "It's not going to be good for you if you get out of hand. I'm just trying to find out everything we need to know."

"What do ya need ta know?" Daryl asked, growing frustrated. "He was beatin' on her, I stopped him. If ya gonna lock me up for poundin' on his head, then do it, but I wanta see his fat ass sittin' right across from me for what he done."

"Calm down, Daryl," Carol said.

"She's got a good idea, there," Rick said. "I'm not going to arrest you unless you can't seem to calm down and control yourself. The only way you're getting arrested is if Ed files charges against you, and then that has to be dealt with. Right now we haven't seen or heard from him."

Michonne came through the door then and Rick got up from his chair. He walked over and Daryl watched as the two of them talked quietly, Michonne occasionally glancing in their direction. Finally they both walked over.

"Mr. Dixon," Michonne said, nodding her head in the direction of Daryl, "Carol, are you OK?" Michonne asked.

"Fine," Carol said.

"We're going to file against Ed," Michonne said. "You can fill out the paperwork and he's going to jail for this."

Carol nodded slightly. Michonne dug around in her purse. She pulled out a card and offered it to Daryl.

"Mr. Dixon, you're free to go here once you've signed a statement for Officer Grimes. If there's any trouble from this, here's my card. Give me a call and I'll see what I can do to help you." Michonne said.

Daryl took the card and tucked it into his pocket.

"Carol, I need to speak with you, and Rick says we can use one of the offices," Michonne said.

Carol got up and turned slightly to Daryl, not saying anything, just nodding a little. Daryl watched as she followed the lawyer down a hallway and then he sat facing Rick Grimes again.

"I'm going to get your statement in a minute," Rick said. "All you need to do is sign it and you're free to go. I can't hold you here for anything. Next time, though, you need to call the police and let us handle this. If Ed decides to press charges, you're going to get hauled in here for assault and battery."

Daryl shrugged a little.

"I ain't gonna just sit back and let him pound on her, whether that means I get hauled in or not," Daryl said. He was calm now, but he meant what he said. "I ain't tryin' ta get in ya face an' I ain't tryin' ta be rowdy, I'm just tellin' ya that I ain't gon' stand back an' watch like the good citizens of this here town."

"I understand your frustration, believe me, I do, but there are legal means by which we get things done," Rick said. "It's illegal to take the law into your own hands."

Daryl nodded at the man.

"Can I sign that paper now?" Daryl asked.

Rick sighed and got up. He disappeared for a few minutes leaving Daryl in the chair. Daryl looked around for a moment, noting how quiet the place was. Either nothing illegal happened in Sweet Junction or everyone treated everything much like they'd treated Ed's outburst and acted like ostriches with their heads buried in the sand.

When Rick reappeared, Daryl got up from the chair that he was sitting in and made his way over to the desk where Rick was waiting. He read over the statement and signed his name to it. He shook Rick's hand and started out the door. Once he got on the sidewalk, he lingered there, leaning against the building, and lit a cigarette.

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When Carol came out with Michonne, she wasn't expecting to find Daryl leaning against the building. He straightened up when they came out and approached them.

"I thought you had left," Carol said.

"Was waitin' on ya," Daryl said. "I still got'cha food an' stuff," he said.

Carol nodded.

"Thank you," she said. She turned and looked at Michonne who wasn't saying anything in the situation. Daryl nodded at her and remained there, waiting.

"I can take her home," Daryl said. "We goin' the same place."

Carol looked at him and then looked back at Michonne.

"It's fine," she said to Michonne. "I'm just going home anyway, I don't really feel up to do anything besides going home."

Michonne smiled and pulled Carol to her in a hug.

"Fine," she said, "but you go straight home and call if you need anything. I'll call you as soon as they let me know anything about Ed."

Carol smiled and nodded at her friend. She stood beside Daryl for a moment and watched as Michonne made her way around the building to the parking lot that was on the other side. She turned back to Daryl.

"You didn't have to do all that," Carol said.

"I reckon you an' me's got different opinions on what I do an' don't have ta do," Daryl said. "Come on, I'll take ya home."

Daryl walked Carol to the truck and walked around, opening the door for her and waiting for her to climb in. He slammed the door shut and circled around, getting in the driver's side and cranking the truck.

"Least nobody stole the damn groceries," he said with a snicker.

"Not a lot of crime in Sweet Junction," Carol said. Daryl chuckled a little.

"Somethin' like that, I'm sure," Daryl said.

"Listen," Carol said, unsure about how she wanted to proceed, "the other day when I said I couldn't take rides from you…well I think I might have hurt your feelings and I wanted you to know that I didn't mean anything personal about it. It's just that Michonne thought that people might talk and Ed might try to…well…he might say that there was some other reason I tried to leave him."

She immediately turned to look out the window, her cheeks burning hot at what he would think about her even suggesting that people would think that something was going on between them. She knew it was ridiculous to think that he'd have any interest in her at all. He was a handsome young man and he'd easily find girls around here to swoon over him. He was new to town and he was a bit of a rugged, rebellious type. Even if he weren't as cute and polite as he was with women, they'd still swoon just for the chance of someone that wasn't so run of the mill and so much the boy next door.

Daryl continued to drive, chewing at his thumb, and Carol cast glances every now in his direction. He wasn't responding, and she was growing more and more embarrassed for bringing it up.

"Ya ain't hurt my feelin's," Daryl said finally. "I don't give a shit who ya ride with, but ya ought not ta be prancin' ya ass 'round town with Ed beatin' his chest like he is. That weren't real smart of ya in the first place."

Daryl's tone was one that was laced with a little annoyance and Carol turned to look at him.

"Prancing around town?" She asked. "I wasn't prancing around town! I went to the grocery store, same as you did. I have to eat too."

"Ya shoulda got someone ta take ya. Hell called one a' them cops or ya lawyer pal, or even asked me. If ya hadn't been walkin' down the street like that, like couldn't a damn thing go wrong in the world then ya wouldn't be sportin' that busted lip an' that damn fine shiner ya got there," Daryl said.

Carol reached up and pulled down the visor of the truck, peering into the small mirror there. She hadn't realized that Ed had hit her that hard, but sure enough her eye was turning purple. She cursed under her breath as she examined the dried blood on her face. She closed the visor and slumped back in the seat. She didn't want to talk about it any longer with Daryl.

"Did I hurt ya feelin's?" Daryl asked after a minute. She turned to look at him. He was half smirking at her.

"Did you do that on purpose?" She asked.

"Which part?" Daryl asked. "The part where I come up just in time ta catch that asshole or the part where I showed ya how much good it does for someone ta hurt ya feelin's an' then ask if they hurt 'em?"

Carol crossed her arms across her chest.

"I just got lucky comin' up when I did," Daryl said. "I'm glad I did come up when I did, though. As for hurtin' ya feelin's, I am sorry, but what I said was true. Ya ought not ta go out alone."

"I think that was pretty low, Daryl, and not what I would expect from you, honestly," Carol said. Her feelings _were_ hurt. She was already blaming herself for what had happened with Ed and she didn't need him rubbing her nose in it. "I'm glad you came up when you did, and I'm sorry if you get in trouble for what you did, but I can't spend the rest of my life begging people to go with me everywhere I've got to go. Do you know how tired everyone would get of me if I had to have an escort every time I went to the grocery store?"

Daryl pulled the truck into the parking lot of the apartment buildings, but he didn't immediately shut off the engine. Carol stayed in her seat and watched as he lit a cigarette. He leaned his arm out of the truck window.

"Well…" Daryl said, taking a leisurely drag off of his cigarette. "Looks ta me like Ed's just put a nail in his coffin 'bout why you'd want ta leave his sorry ass. He made a big damn mistake gettin' caught walkin' through that order. An' I don't much know 'bout other people, but I ain't gonna get pissed if ya need a ride ta buy some fuckin' food, so just walk ya happy ass across the hall the next damn time ya need ta go ta the store an' I'll take ya. Fuckers 'round here don't make no damn sense if they'll run their mouths 'bout that shit but ain't got the human fuckin' decency ta stop Ed from actin' like a horse's ass in the middle a' town."

Carol shifted in her seat a little. She didn't understand Daryl Dixon at all. One minute he could hurt her feelings, the next he could make her angry, and now here she was thinking of him, once again, as some kind of backwards knight in shining armor.

"Thanks," she said, not knowing what else to say and fighting back the urge to cry that had been pushing at her for a few minutes now.

Daryl reached over with his right hand and gently swiped his knuckle under her chin, tipping her head up.

"Now don't'cha go fuckin' cryin'," he said.

"I guess I just thought that it would be easier, you know? I'd just leave Ed and that would be that. I'd be able to take care of myself, but I can't even go to the grocery store," Carol said.

"So it don't happen overnight, so what?" Daryl said. "Could be a lot worse than ya gotta ask somebody ta give ya a ride ta the store."

Carol nodded and did her best to dry up the tears that were blurring her vision. Daryl switched off the truck and opened his door. She opened hers and crawled out of the vehicle, circling around and accepting some of the bags of groceries. He tucked a few items under his arms and hauled up the rest.

"I can take more," Carol said.

"I got it, let's go," Daryl said.

Daryl followed Carol up the stairs and she fumbled with her keys, getting her apartment unlocked. He followed her inside and stood there holding his groceries awkwardly while she put hers away. She figured that he was waiting on something, but she wasn't entirely sure what.

"Thank you again," she said. "And thanks for helping me bring the groceries in."

"You're welcome," Daryl said, still standing there. Carol wasn't really sure what to do, so she finished putting the groceries away and turned around to face him.

"You, uh, might want to get that stuff in the fridge," she said. "I'm sorry if any of it's gone bad from the heat.'

"It'll be alright," Daryl said. "Why don't'cha come over ta my place. Ya can eat supper there. Shouldn't be alone 'til we know they done found Ed. Don't want him showin' up here ta finish what he didn't get ta do in town."

"I couldn't do that," Carol said. "I don't want to impose."

"Ain't no imposin' goin' on," Daryl said. "Just dinner."

Carol didn't really want to be alone at the moment. She was still a little shaken by the events, but she also didn't want to just go over and barge in on their dinner. She'd never been inside their apartment. She didn't know how Merle and Andrea would react to the imposition, even if Daryl said it wasn't one.

"I guess I could come over for a bit," Carol said. "I could help you get cleaned up."

She doubted that Daryl even realized that his knuckles were still bloody and he had dried blood on his face. It was only then that she realized she did too.

"Fine," Daryl said. "I'll take this stuff over. Come on when you're ready, the door is open."

Carol smiled at him and he left the apartment. When she heard the door click shut, she immediately went to the bathroom and swabbed at her face with a wet washcloth. The bruise wouldn't come off, and she was most angry about it. All that was left from the bruises before was that awful green tinge that was the last to linger and she'd been excited about them fading away for good. Now she was stuck with evidence of more of Ed's handiwork. The only thing that really excited her was the thought that Ed was likely to be in jail, at least for the night.

Carol took a wash cloth and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and crossed the hall to the Dixon's apartment. She knocked gingerly on the door and heard Daryl call from inside. She opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. Daryl was putting things into the refrigerator.

"So ya did come?" He said, smiling and closing the refrigerator door.

Carol looked around. No one had taken the time to clean their apartment like she and Michonne had done for hers, and it had a smell much like hers had when she'd first looked at it. She felt bad, in some way, that the three of them were living there. It must not bother them, though, because clearly no one had done anything to make the place homier.

"Sit down," Carol said. "I'll help you get cleaned up."

Daryl looked at his hands a minute and shrugged.

"Should be fine," he said. "Just gotta wash off a little. Ain't nothin' ta go cryin' 'bout."

"Please," Carol said. "It's all I can do and you've been so nice to me."

Daryl faced her a moment and chewed at his bottom lip. Finally he sighed and sat down at the card table that was in the room. Carol walked over and pulled one of the other chairs close to him. She went to the sink and wet her wash cloth and crossed back to the chair, sitting down and dabbing at his face.

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Daryl couldn't breathe and he didn't want to admit it. Carol had slid the chair up and sat down so that her knees were just between his and she was leaning in close enough to his face that he could feel her breath.

At first he'd tried to figure out where to look, but when he looked at her face he felt uncomfortable having his so close to hers, so finally he'd just shut his eyes. Everywhere she touched him her hands were soft and cool and she cleaned his wounds gently. He couldn't remember ever having anyone touch him so gently in his life.

He might have enjoyed the entire thing if it wasn't for the fact that he was pretty sure he was going to die before she finished. His heart was pounding and he was struggling to keep his breath steady. Just having her in his space like she was, leaning over him ever few moments, her breasts closer to his face than he'd imagine, was driving him crazy and it was a feeling that he wasn't used to and he wasn't comfortable with.

To make matters worse, there were other parts of his body that felt the need to react to this close proximity and he was having a hell of a time trying to imagine anything horrible and disgusting that he could think of to keep from having a visible problem to explain later.

"There," she said softly, after what seemed like a fucking eternity. "All better!" She surprised him then by standing over him and leaning down to kiss him gently on the forehead. Daryl opened his eyes and looked up into her face. She was smiling softly down at him and he became aware that she was standing, straddling one of his legs, her breasts right by his face. He struggled to swallow, his eyes locked on hers.

After a moment, her expression changed and she pulled away from him, straightening up completely. He saw her swallow and she went to the sink to rinse out the rag that she was holding.

Daryl stood up and looked at her back as she was leaning against the sink. For all his attempts to think of everything horrible he'd ever seen, he could feel himself straining against his jeans and he shifted uncomfortably.

He didn't know what to do with women. It wasn't his area. That was Merle's area of expertise. He'd never been with a woman. He'd never even come close to being with a woman. For as long as he could remember Merle had given him hell, insisting that he was broken because he hadn't even wanted to kiss a woman, but right this moment he wanted nothing more in the world than to kiss Carol.

Daryl was pretty sure that he could figure out how the kissing thing went. It didn't seem like it would be so hard to do once you were there. Lips on lips and you went from there. The part he couldn't quite figure out was how he was supposed to get his lips on hers. Carol turned the faucet off and squeezed the cloth off, laying it over the side of the sink. When she turned around, leaning, back against the sink for a moment, Daryl said a little prayer to himself and stepped forward, pressing his lips against hers.

At first he wasn't sure he was doing it right. She didn't respond to him in any way except to tense against him. Then, he felt her slide her tongue against his lips and he let his part a little, her tongue sliding gently into his mouth. His body seemed to react without his permission and he moved against her, pinning her tighter against the sink, his hands slipping around her and his tongue pushing past hers and into her mouth, exploring her.

Daryl tasted blood and backed away, pulling loose of her, much to the disappointment of his throbbing member that was trying desperately to escape its denim confines. Carol stood there, backed against the sink, her mouth slightly open, a small trail of blood running from the split in her lip.

"Oh God!" Daryl said. He was instantly mortified. He wanted to turn himself inside out and disappear somehow.

Carol moved her hand up to her lip, touching the blood and held her fingertips out to look at it. She still hadn't said anything, she simply reached around and grabbed the rag she'd put down moments before. She dabbed at her lip.

"Jesus!" Daryl said. "I'm so sorry…I'm just…I'm so sorry!" He had no idea how to escape. If it hadn't been his apartment he'd have run from it, but if he ran now he didn't know where he would go.

"Daryl, it's OK," Carol said, putting the rag back down. "It happens."

Daryl stood there, not knowing what to do. He was certain that this situation couldn't possibly get any worse. Even if he burst into flames at this very second, it couldn't get any worse.

Daryl was surprised, though, when Carol walked toward him, closing the small distance between them. She stood in front of him for a moment, looking up at him. A half smile on her lips. She reached her hand behind his head and pulled him toward her, pressing her lips against his this time. She kissed him gently and again he felt her pressing her tongue against him. He allowed her access and sunk into the kiss again. The taste of blood returned, but she didn't seem bothered by it, so he ignored it.

Daryl felt her wrap her other arm around his back and pull him slightly toward her. He stepped forward, pushing her back, until she was backed against the sink again, her body tight against his. He bucked against her without meaning to, pushing her back into the sink, but she held the kiss, gently twirling her tongue around his. He moaned into her mouth and she broke the kiss, pushing him back gently. She was panting a little, and staring at him.

They stood there for a minute, not entirely separated. Daryl felt like he was dying. He wanted more of the kiss, he wanted more of her, but he didn't know what to do or how he was supposed to do it. He didn't even know for sure if she liked the kiss, though he thought that the way she was breathing might indicate that she had.

Daryl heard a hand on the door knob and quickly both of them broke apart, going for opposite sides of the kitchen. A second later, Andrea came through the door. She stopped a minute, looking back and forth between the two of them. Daryl realized that there was blood smeared a little on Carol's face and she hadn't calmed her breathing entirely. He had no idea if any of the blood was on his own face, so he quickly reached his hand up to swipe at it. Andrea smiled a little and closed the door, tossing her car keys on the table.

"Merle's gonna be a little late," she said. "He wanted to get a drink or two before dinner."

Andrea didn't say anything else for a second, she just stood there. Neither Carol nor Daryl moved.

"Did you go to the store today?" Andrea asked. She dug under the cabinet and came out with a glass. She crossed the kitchen and reached around Daryl, opening the cabinet and taking out a whiskey bottle. As she closed the cabinet and pulled back around him, Daryl felt her scanning over him with her eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "I done put the stuff up."

Andrea nodded and moved to the table, pouring some of the liquor into the glass. She took a swallow of it and looked between them again. Daryl glanced at Carol, but Carol had her eyes fixed on Andrea. Andrea smiled again.

"Carol, honey, there's blood on your face," Andrea said. "Yours too," she said, looking at Daryl and winking.

Daryl cursed silently to himself and reached for the rag by the sink. He wiped at his face and handed the rag to Carol who had relaxed a little from her position in the corner. Andrea sat down at one of the chairs that they hadn't moved from before and took another sip from the glass.

"Anything happen today?" She asked.

Daryl looked at Carol and then back at the blonde who was smirking at them.

"Saw Ed in town," Daryl said. "He…uh…he was tryin' ta make Carol get in the car with him, so I got in a fight with him."

Andrea nodded her head a little.

"Did you win?" She asked. She poured more of the drink into the bottle and took another sip.

"Don't know," Daryl said.

Carol cleared her throat.

"Daryl was nice enough to drive me to the police station, and then he brought me home," Carol said. "I was just helping him get cleaned up."

Andrea took another drink.

"We're going out to eat tonight," she said, directing her attention to Carol. "We're just going down to Lula's. I don't feel like cooking and Merle got a raise today, so we're going to celebrate. You'll go with us?"

The question was something between a question and a statement.

Carol nodded.

"I'd love to go," she said.

"I told her she could eat with us 'cause she don't need ta be alone 'til they find Ed," Daryl said quickly.

Andrea smiled again and stood up. She took another sip from the glass she held in her hand, but left the bottle on the table.

"You're right," she said. "I'm going to get changed…Merle should be home shortly, but if you hurry, you might have time to finish…cleaning up."

Andrea walked back toward the bedroom that she and Merle shared.

Daryl heard Carol let go of a breath that she'd been holding for at least a little bit and he turned to look at her. She looked a little worried. He wasn't sure if she was regretting having kissed him, having agreed to stay for dinner, or all of it combined. He could feel his own cheeks burning hot, and he realized that she was blushing too. The only thing that he could hope right now was that Andrea would keep her mouth shut, and that maybe Carol wouldn't hate him for what had happened.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: As always, I thank you all for your reviews, PMs, and support! **

**This chapter ended up being very, very long…far longer than I intended, but I hope that you won't be too mad at me! **

**Enjoy! **

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Carol felt awkward. She wasn't sure what she was really doing in the dirty kitchen of the apartment that the Dixon brothers shared with Andrea. Now they were all going out to dinner? And Daryl? She'd kissed him! She hadn't just let him kiss her…that would have made her innocent in all of this…no, she'd actually kissed him!

She was still married to Ed. He might have been served papers, and she might want to be rid of him, but she was still married to him and she'd kissed Daryl. What was bothering her even more was the fact that she _wanted_ to do more. She wanted to kiss him again. She wasn't stupid and she'd felt that he was aroused, and that had made her want to do things that she hadn't _wanted_ to do in a very long time.

With Ed, things had been different. When they'd first been dating, she'd wanted to have sex with him. She'd never done it before and she imagined that it was going to be wonderful, everything her girlfriends talked about. It was going to be everything she'd seen on every movie and read about in every book that even had a peek at something racy. Still, she'd done exactly what her parents had told her to do time and time again and she waited until she and Ed were married to have sex with him.

And it hadn't been everything she thought it would be. It had gotten better, though, and then it had been Ed who didn't seem to enjoy it. The third time she'd slept with him, and it hadn't hurt at all, she'd touched herself, trying to find the same feelings that Ed seemed to have, the same ones that her girlfriends had bragged about, and Ed had been horrified. He'd yelled at her, calling her slut, telling her the only women that did things like that were whores and he wasn't going to be married to a whore.

And from there sex had been a nightmare between them. Ed had seen it as something that they only had when he wanted it, and it was under his conditions. She'd learned to accept it as something that she hated and only had to endure from time to time, most likely when one of his other interests…the whores that he wasn't married to and therefore didn't mind how they acted…were busy or couldn't satisfy whatever urges he had.

So Carol hadn't considered sex something that she would ever want. As time had gone on, with the way that Ed talked to her, with everything that he did to her, she'd also accepted the fact that she wasn't what any man wanted to have sex with. That was one reason she was supposed to always thank her lucky stars that Ed Peletier let her stay with him. He'd accepted his lot in life that he was to have an ugly wife, someone so undesirable, and she was supposed to thank him for that. No man would ever actually _want_ her.

But she had felt like Daryl wanted her.

Now that she was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the wall and observing what a domestic scene in this household looked like as they went about their business trying to get ready to go to dinner, Carol caught herself daydreaming. She looked over at Daryl who had pulled himself on the counter and was sitting there, his head back against the cabinet. He looked flustered a little, and she kept noticing him glance in her direction. He looked worried, and she was beginning to fear that he hadn't meant for any of it to happen and now he was worried that Andrea knew what had happened and that Merle would know soon enough.

Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe Daryl hadn't actually really wanted her. She'd heard Ed say things, and she'd others say them as well, about men not really even needing to be attracted to women to have sex. They just needed a warm body sometimes. Maybe that's what had happened with Daryl. Maybe she'd just been the closest thing available and now he was worried that someone would know that he'd given into some kind of animal instinct or something.

Carol felt a little sick over the situation. The more she thought about it, the more that seemed reasonable.

"Ya comin'?" Merle asked, drawing her out of her daydream. The three of them had already made their way to door and were standing there with it open. She realized they were waiting on her and she stepped forward.

"Do you have a phone?" She asked suddenly.

All three of them instantly looked at her like she was insane.

"No we ain't got no phone," Merle said. "Who tha hell ya gotta call?"

"I should call Michonne," Carol said. "If I'm going to be out for a while, I really should tell her. She said she was going to call me when they found Ed, and if I'm not home for a while she's going to freak out."

Andrea stood there, looking at her, one of her hands resting on Merle's shoulder as they stood bunched together just inside the doorway.

"She's probably right," Andrea said to Merle. Merle didn't respond. "We don't have a phone," Andrea said to Carol, "but we'll wait while you go and make the call."

Carol nodded and the group of three that had almost fused into one being from the tightness of the area pushed forward into the hallway. Carol followed after them and slipped into her own apartment. She called Michonne, worried that the woman would scold her for her decision to go to dinner with them. To her surprise, though Michonne didn't scold her. She informed her that they hadn't found Ed yet, and that it was best to stay with them until she heard from her. After dinner she was to call her again.

When Carol got off the phone, she joined the three in the hall. They filed down the stairs and out into the night air.

"So you got a raise?" Carol asked Merle when they were walking in a bunch toward the diner.

"Damn sure did," Merle said. Carol could tell that he'd had more than a few drinks. Andrea was weaving a little too, and Carol had seen the damage that she'd done to the liquor bottle in the apartment. "Boss man says ole Merle's a daisy," Merle said with a chuckle. "Done upped me a hundred bucks a week for forty hour weeks, an' that shit ain't nothin' ta sneeze at!"

"Well congratulations," Carol said. She didn't know what else to say. The closer they got to the diner, the more she was feeling out of place. She didn't know Merle, not really. She knew he was Daryl's brother. She knew that he was a man that beat Ed up simply for knowing that Ed had beat her, without so much as knowing her name. She knew he lived with Andrea, or that she lived with them, and that Andrea insisted there was nothing really between them, though she couldn't help but notice that as they walked down the side walk his hand went almost constantly between Andrea's back and her arm, depending on which one of them swerved when they took a step.

When they came into the diner it was pretty busy and Carol was a little embarrassed. She knew most everyone in there and even though they weren't doing anything, Merle and Andrea were being a little loud talking to one another and laughing about whatever it was they were talking about. Carol shot a glance at Daryl and he looked embarrassed as well, though she didn't know if it was over the two of them or still over the fact that Andrea had very nearly caught them kissing.

Jacqui was working, and she seated them, speaking warmly to Daryl and touching the back of Carol's arm, though shooting her a bit of a confused look. Carol simply smiled at her in response and took a seat in one of the booths beside Daryl.

"Now ya get what tha fuck ya wanna eat," Merle said, a little louder than Carol thought he intended to. "We fuckin' celebratin' tonight an' we gon' do it right. Ya can even see if they got that shit ya wanted ta eat, Derlina. Maybe get it the right way 'fore Andrea fucks it up."

Andrea smacked Merle on the arm and he chuckled at her.

"I can make meatloaf, Merle, it ain't rocket science," Andrea protested.

Carol remembered that Daryl had been at the grocery store buying food for what was presumably their dinner. She cleared her throat.

"Um…it might not be a good idea to cook that," Carol said. Andrea shot her a look. Carol realized that maybe Andrea thought she was doubting her culinary skills. In actuality she didn't know anything about how well Andrea might be able to cook. She'd never seen her do anything really besides serve drinks, wash dishes, and wipe down tables. The woman could be a four star chef for all she knew. "I mean that when…well when everything happened…we left the groceries in the back of the truck for a while."

Andrea nodded her head.

"I think we'll clean the fridge out when we get home," Andrea said. "Unless of course anyone is up for a damn good round of who gets the bathroom."

Merle looked at her oddly.

"There was a little incident today," Andrea said.

She was interrupted by Jacqui who came and took their orders. When she walked off, Merle looked at Andrea again and then his gaze trailed across the table at Carol and Daryl.

"Fuck happened?" He growled. Carol realized that though they'd danced around the issue a little, no one had actually told Merle about what had taken place between Daryl and Ed that day.

"I seen Ed today," Daryl said, keeping his voice low. Carol was grateful that at least one person at the table didn't see the need to announce their presence to everyone that was trying to eat dinner. "Was comin' back from the store, an' he had Carol, so we kinda brawled a lil' bit an' then we had ta go ta the police station."

Merle sat there a minute. He reached across Andrea and plucked one of the toothpicks out of the cup at the end of the table. He chewed on it for a second and then chuckled.

"Wondered where tha hell ya two got them matchin' shiners," Merle said. "Don't'cha know enough ta guard ya damn face, Derlina? Fuck! I ain't taught'cha nothin'?"

No one responded and Carol glanced around a little. A few people were watching them, obviously disturbed slightly by the noise level. She tried to pretend that it didn't make her uncomfortable, but when she turned back, she noticed Andrea was watching her.

"Well…I hope ya fucked him up," Merle said after a second, completely unaware of anyone else in the diner. "If ya didn't, I'm gonna have ta kick ya ass for practice, boy."

"He got his I reckon," Daryl said, grumbling a little.

Carol wasn't sure if she should say anything. It would appear that the two men took some kind of pride in fighting, and she didn't know what was the correct way to respond to that, so she just sat silently. She watched Andrea who was now folding her napkin into some kind of very detailed design.

Jacqui brought the food and everyone began to eat. Carol was thankful that food meant full mouths and full mouths meant that no one was talking about Ed anymore and no one was drawing attention to their table. She got stared at enough, and the fresh bruises on her face and on Daryl's, combined with the loudness of Merle and of Andrea when she spoke, wasn't doing much for making them invisible.

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After dinner was done, the crowd made their way back to the apartment buildings. As they climbed the steps, Carol excused herself to go and call Michonne while Daryl, Merle, and Andrea slipped into their apartment announcing that they expected to hear from her when the call was done.

When they got inside the apartment, Daryl watched Merle and Andrea. Both of them immediately got glasses out of the cabinet and sat at the card table in the kitchen, obviously meaning to pick up with their beverages where they'd left off before dinner.

Daryl knew that Carol had been uncomfortable during dinner. She hadn't exactly been wonderful at hiding it if she was trying to hide it at all. He wondered if she was embarrassed for having kissed him or if it was the overall company that she was embarrassed of. He knew that in towns like this, people like his brother and himself were not always looked at as fine, upstanding citizens.

"She's a damn mousy little thing, ain't she?" Merle said, pouring some whiskey into a glass. "'Bout fuckin' jump at her own damn shadow."

"That shit happens, Merle," Andrea said. "Some fat fuck goes pounding on your face regularly enough and you start to react, even before it happens. Some scientist did this experience once, showed how you can train dogs to do shit for treats you don't even have, just because they think it's coming. Same damn idea."

"Ya a damn scientist now, sugah?" Merle asked, chuckling and taking a drink.

Andrea shrugged.

"I can fuckin' read, Merle. Been doing it since at least the third grade," Andrea said.

"I think ya can read before the third grade," Daryl said. He realized that he couldn't remember how old he was in the third grade, but he was fairly confident that he could read by then.

"You know what the hell I mean," Andrea said. She laughed and took a drink from her own glass.

There was a knock at the door and Carol pushed it open. She stood there in the doorway looking just as mousy as Merle had suggested. Daryl shifted his weight and leaned back against the counter.

"Michonne said they haven't found him yet," Carol said. "She told me to ask you, Andrea, if you'd be willing to stay over for the night, but it's not that big of a deal. I'll be fine. I'll keep the door locked."

Andrea looked at her a moment and then craned her neck around toward Daryl. She smiled a moment and then turned back to Carol.

"I think Daryl should stay," Andrea said. "It's the best of both worlds. You get someone to sleep on your couch and Merle and I get a little privacy to celebrate his big raise. Besides…" Andrea paused to toss back some more of the whiskey and Merle poured her another drink before she'd rested her glass on the table. Daryl could see that Merle had his hand between her legs under the table and he curled his lip involuntarily. "If ole Ed comes a' knockin', I can't do much about it. He'd probably keep us both from getting across the hall, but Daryl here might be itching to finish what the hell he started."

Daryl looked at Carol. She looked a little unsure of the suggestion at first. She shot him a look and he nodded.

"I can do that," he said. "I just gotta get my toothbrush an' I can sleep on the couch. Don't make no damn difference to me."

Carol still looked a little uncomfortable and she turned her attention back to Andrea and Merle. Daryl realized she didn't have the same view of what was happening under the card table that he had. When Andrea leaned over, though, and kissed Merle in such a way that it looked like she'd very nearly sucked his face off, Carol nodded at Daryl.

"That's fine," she said. "I'm going over there, but I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

Daryl nodded, thankful to be taking his leave of his living companions. He had a feeling that they wouldn't be immune from the noise, even across the hall.

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Carol came through the apartment and dropped a blanket on the couch beside Daryl. They were getting ready to go to bed, and Daryl was lying on the couch, thinking that the apartment was so much nicer than his that he'd rather sleep on her couch than in his bed any day.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't have an extra pillow. You could go get yours."

"Nah," Daryl said, starting to spread the blanket over him. "These here pillows on your couch are better than mine anyway."

Carol walked into her kitchen to get a glass of water and Daryl watched her. She was wearing red and white striped cotton pajama pants and a red tank top. The pants were almost see through and Daryl could tell that she was wearing some kind of dark underwear underneath them. He cursed himself for looking at them, but he couldn't help it. He was thankful that the blanket was over him now, because his erection was straining against the pants that he still hadn't taken off. He had been unsure if he should sleep in his underwear, given that he was on Carol's couch.

"Are you sleeping in your clothes?" Carol asked. She walked over and leaned with one hand on the arm of the couch.

_Jesus!_ Daryl thought. She was obviously trying to kill him. Just by standing there he thought he'd explode. He kept thinking about the kiss and how nice it had felt to feel her lips against his, her tongue probing around. He felt himself grow harder and he was pretty sure he was sweating.

"Yeah," he said, trying to swallow. He hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt right now. Carol came around and sat on the edge of the couch. Daryl scooted back as far as he could, afraid that if she got too close his body would betray what he was thinking.

"Thank you for what you did today," Carol said. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry that Ed hit you…and I'm sorry about what happened…in your apartment. You must think I'm an awful person…"

Daryl was confused.

"What? Why do I think you're awful?" He asked. He swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that he was uncomfortable in a number of ways.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that…" Carol said.

"I kissed ya first," Daryl said.

"I know you didn't mean it," Carol said.

"Who the fuck said I didn't mean it?" Daryl asked. He felt himself relaxing a little and he was thankful.

"You mean you _did_ mean it?" Carol asked. She looked confused for a moment and Daryl couldn't stop himself from chuckling a little.

"Well, yeah. Didn't fuckin' know ya could kiss someone without meanin' ta do it," Daryl said.

Carol looked at him a moment, and to his surprise she leaned in, kissing him again. He leaned up into her, tangling one of his hands into her hair, pulling her into him. The other supporting his weight. She tasted like peppermint toothpaste. After a moment he tasted the coppery taste of blood again and realized her lip was never going to heal if he couldn't keep his damn lips off of hers, but at the moment he didn't want to let her go for anything. He felt the same straining in his pants again, and he wanted to pull her down on top of him. He must have tugged a little too hard on her head because she did somewhat buckle forward, landing against him.

Without the need to support himself, he moved his other hand around her, rubbing it on her back. He realized he had no idea what to do with it. He wasn't sure how he went from this point to taking care of the other burning need that he had. He shifted again, the hand on her back pulling her against him. She fell against his side and a moment later she pulled free of him, sitting up again and brushing her tangled hair back. She was panting again and completely unaware, it seemed, that they had once again busted open the scab on her lip.

"Are you sure about this?" Carol asked. Her eyes were dancing back and forth. Daryl leaned up on his elbow a little. He didn't want to jump to conclusions and think that she was suggesting what he hoped she was suggesting.

He nodded. He didn't want to make an ass out of himself by trying to guess what he might be unsure about, so at this moment he thought it best to just agree that he was sure about anything she might be thinking about and let her take it from there.

Carol wiped at her face with her hand a moment and looked around. Daryl had never realized until that moment, looking at her face as intently as he was, that he'd never seen her without any make up at all. If anything, he thought she looked prettier. He never realized how peppered her skin was with freckles until just then.

"Do you have anything?" Carol asked, turning back to look at him, her breath still somewhat ragged.

"Any what?" Daryl asked.

Carol's eyes got big and she tangled her hands in her hair again.

"_Condoms_…" she hissed in a whisper. Daryl didn't know why she was whispering, they were in the apartment alone, but at least now he knew what he was supposed to be sure about.

"No," he said. Why the fuck would he have condoms? Was he supposed to be just carrying that shit around?

Carol looked around again and Daryl followed her vision, not entirely sure what she was looking for. All he knew right this minute was that this was something that was apparently bothering her, and he was going to figure out how the hell to solve it.

"I got an idea, though," Daryl said, finding his voice. Carol looked at him expectantly, but she didn't say anything. "You stay here, lock the door. Don't'cha open the fuckin' door for nothin'. I'll run down ta the drug store on the corner an' get some."

Daryl felt like they were kids coming up with some master plan. Carol seemed to be turning it over in her mind for a minute before she finally started nodding. She smiled.

"Yeah…" she said. "That'll work. Be quick, though. I'll keep the door locked." She said.

Daryl wondered if she was as freaked out as he was. He threw the blanket back and struggled to get his shoes on. Carol sat on the edge of the couch looking a little lost as she watched him. Once his shoes were on, he leaned over and kissed her again, praying that he could get there and get back before she realized that she didn't want to do this with him.

"I'll be right back," he said, starting out the door. "I mean it, don't'cha fuckin' open this door for no damn reason 'til I fuckin' tell ya I'm back."

Carol nodded and closed the door behind him. He stood outside the door until he heard the clicking of the lock and then he started down the stairs two at a time.

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Carol couldn't believe what was happening. She paced around and around the apartment while Daryl was gone. Was she actually suggesting that they have sex together? She'd sent him out into the night, in Sweet Junction, to find condoms. What the hell was she thinking?

She was thinking that she wanted this so bad she could taste it. She worried that she'd regret it later, that he'd regret it later, but she couldn't help it. She wanted this to happen.

It was taking a long time, though, and she couldn't figure out what was taking so long. Every time she heard anything, the creaking of the building, the sound of the neighbors upstairs that were obviously raising miniature ponies, anything at all, she nearly had a heart attack and flew to the door waiting to hear Daryl outside saying that he'd gotten back from buying condoms.

She wasn't even sure why she insisted that he buy them. She was on the pill. She'd been on the pill since she married Ed. It had worked for her, except that once, but for some reason she felt like if she had sex with Daryl and didn't insist on condoms she'd be giving the wrong impression. Besides, she didn't know how many people he'd been with, and she knew that she had more to worry about than pregnancy. She didn't need to catch anything, though he didn't seem like the kind that had anything…Still, she had to be careful and smart about this if she was going to do crazy things like this.

The longer it took, though, the more she began to worry. What if he'd gotten out there and thought about it and realized that he really didn't want to have sex with her? What if all those bumps and knocking noises she heard were really him slipping across the hall? He would probably tell Merle and Andrea that she'd suggested that they have sex together and they'd probably all laugh at her for even thinking that he'd want to do that. And he'd probably think she was a whore for suggesting it…

Carol had almost worked herself entirely into a tizzy when there was a knock on the door. She rushed to it, pressing her ear against it.

"Who is it?" She called.

"Its me," Daryl's voice responded. "Ya can open the damn door now."

Carol unlocked the door and pulled it open. Daryl pushed past her, and she closed the door behind him, returning the lock to its previous position. Daryl stood there, facing her, with a bag in his hand.

"How the hell we do this? Ya wanta go ta your room, or do we stay on the couch?" Daryl asked. Carol realized his chest was heaving. She didn't know if it was from exertion or if he was reacting to the situation that made her nervous as well.

Carol realized that she couldn't respond. She felt like she was having a heart attack. She walked toward the bedroom and he trailed behind her, still unable to control his own breath.

Carol sat on the edge of the bed and Daryl sat next to her, the top of the paper bag still crumpled in his fist. He leaned in and kissed her roughly, his tongue almost choking her. She put her hand on his chest, pushing him back just a bit. When they broke, she swallowed and tried to get her breath.

"You took so long," she said. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."

"Went ta the gas station first, but they was closed," Daryl said. "Had ta go all the way down ta the pharmacy an' I thought it was closer than it is."

Daryl opened the paper bag and dumped the contents out on the bed. There were at least eight boxes of condoms there and Carol looked at them and then back at him. Before she could say anything, Daryl was on her again, kissing her. His hand went for her breast and he squeezed it with enough force that she involuntarily yelped into his mouth and tried to pull away from him.

"Ya OK?" He asked.

"Maybe not so hard?" She asked. He nodded. His hand went back to her breast, but with less force now, though he was still attempting to suffocate her. She pulled away again, still panting. "Why did you get so many?" She asked, looking back at the boxes. She wasn't sure what he had in mind, but she didn't know how many times people normally had sex. She had never done it more than once at a time.

"They had so damn many of 'em an' I didn't know what ta get," Daryl said, turning his attention to the boxes. He fumbled around with them for a minute. "I got one an' then I saw all the others an' I weren't sure, so I got one of all of 'em. I mean this one even says _for her_ an' then the others didn't say if they was for him or they was for her…"

Carol picked up one of the boxes and eyed it.

"So is there something I should know or are you just over confident?" She asked, turning the box over in her hand. Daryl looked at her, confused. "These are extra-large," she said, showing him the box for clarification. Daryl blushed and she thought he looked cute when he blushed.

"Didn't know they came in different fuckin' sizes, OK? An' I didn't know what fuckin' size I was s'posed ta get," he stuttered. "Ain't never bought this shit before. Ain't never had no fuckin' reason ta buy this shit."

Realization washed over Carol then.

"Daryl," she said, "are you saying that you've never…well that you've never done _this _before?" She asked.

Daryl blushed redder than he was before and suddenly he started to look angry. He snatched the box out of her hand and started cramming the boxes back into the paper bag.

"Fuck!" He spat. "I fucked this shit up," he said. He started to stand up and Carol caught him by the arm, pulling at him. He turned back, anger boiling all over his face, embarrassment just behind it. She wished she hadn't made him feel that way.

"Sit down," she said, trying to steady her voice. "You didn't fuck anything up."

Daryl sat down and looked at her, his face still beet red. Carol reached over and fumbled with the button on his pants. She looked at him and he was still staring at her, looking more like an angry little boy than anything else.

"What tha hell ya doin'?" He asked as she struggled to get his pants open.

Carol didn't answer him, she just continued what he was doing and finally he shifted around enough that she could get his pants open. She took a breath and dipped her hand into his pants, freeing him from both his jeans and his underwear. He was already hard and she stroked him. He shifted again, his breath catching in his throat, both his hands on the bed behind him.

"The fuck?" He panted.

"Shhh…" Carol said. "Just close your eyes and enjoy it," she said softly. She wasn't sure if she was doing this right. Ed wouldn't have ever trusted her to do anything like this, knowing full well that having his member in her hands might not have ended well for him, even if she's pay for it later. She continued to stroke Daryl, not having the courage to do anything else for the moment. As he tensed, she moved toward him and brought the tail of her shirt up to catch him when he reached his release.

Daryl growled and cursed as he reached his peak and she wiped at him with her shirt. He remained, a moment, panting.

"Why the hell did'ja fuckin' do that?" He asked.

Carol brought her lips to his again, wrapping her arm around him.

"Now it won't be on your mind so much," she said when they pulled apart.

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Daryl couldn't believe that she'd done what she'd done. He'd never had anyone do that to him before. She had been right, though, he did feel more relaxed. He kissed her again and realized that she was wearing a shirt that was now covered with him. He was a little mortified.

"Ya can take that off," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said. She smiled at him. "Feel better?"

Daryl only responded by running his fingers under the edge of her shirt. For a moment he stopped there, feeling how soft the skin of her sides felt against his fingertips. She was so soft, and she smelled so good. He realized that the problem he'd had before was going to come back again, and probably much sooner than she'd intended. He started to tug at her tank top.

"Daryl, before we do this…" she started. Daryl stopped. He wasn't sure what she was going to say, but he hoped it wasn't some kind of really big "but" that was going to put some kind of stop to this. "I…well…I don't have a very nice body…and I feel like I should warn you because I don't want you to be surprised…"

Daryl pulled back a minute and looked at her. Her face was scrunched up like she was in pain, but he didn't think he was hurting her.

"I think ya got a real nice body," he said. In fact, he was interested in seeing more if it, if she'd let him figure out how to get that stupid shirt off.

"I mean that I've got…well I've got scars, Daryl," Carol said. She looked at him then almost like she expected him to react in some way. He didn't know if he was supposed to react in some way and he just didn't know about it. Finally he decided not to say anything and he went back to tugging at the tank top. She somewhat reluctantly raised her arms and he pulled it over her head, dropping it on the floor.

If he was supposed to notice scars, then he was failing at this thing already. The first that _he_ noticed were breasts…and they looked just damn fine to him. He looked at her again and she looked like she was holding her breath. He almost laughed at her. He turned his attention back to her breasts and thought that he'd like to suck on them, but he wasn't exactly sure if he was supposed to ask permission or what. Finally he decided that she hadn't asked him for permission before she'd rubbed his dick, so he could at least suck on her breasts. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue, and she moaned out, throwing her head back. He came up and smiled at her.

He dipped his head again, this time licking at the soft pale skin of her stomach. As his tongue trailed across her, he slowly became aware of various scars. For a moment he stopped. He wasn't sure if he was angrier with Ed for having put them on her body or at her for being ashamed of what the asshole had done to her.

He looked up and she was looking at him with panic in her eyes. He sighed. He realized he was about to do something that he'd never done before, but if it made that look go away, he'd do it. Daryl backed off of her and pulled his own shirt over his head. Her hands came up and for a moment, she rubbed his chest, rolling his nipple in between her fingers. He put his hand up and stopped her.

"I want'cha ta listen ta me a minute," he said. Carol nodded at him. "I don't give a damn about'cha scars except it pisses me the hell off that ya got 'em. I don't want ta hear ya say nothin' 'bout 'em again, though, 'cause they ain't nothin' for ya ta be upset about." Carol didn't didn't respond to him, but she lie there and stared at him. He got up and turned around, revealing for her the scars that he knew to be there, though he hadn't looked at them in a mirror in a very long time.

Daryl jumped a little, involuntarily, when he felt Carol's soft hands trailing along his back. After a moment he felt her lips brush his back and her arms wrapped around him, ghosting over his chest. He turned around then and she was sitting on her knees on the bed. He looked down at her, looking up at him, and he couldn't stand it. He didn't want to wait anymore. He wanted to be out of his clothes, and he wanted her out of hers, and he wanted to be inside her feeling everything that he'd been told was supposed to be the greatest feeling he could get.

Daryl pushed his pants down and toed off his shoes as he went. Carol responded by shimmying out of her candy striped pajama pants. Daryl froze for a minute looking at the dark purple panties she was wearing that he'd thought about earlier.

He came back onto the bed and pushed her back, his hands pushing her arms up. His mouth found her nipple again and she moaned, bucking her hips up into him. He kissed down her stomach again, stopping to trace a circle around her belly button with his tongue. She pulled back away from him a little, jerking, and then she relaxed back against him. When he got to her panties, he could smell her and he felt himself go as hard as a rock again. He remembered all the times that Merle had said something about tasting pussy, and he had to admit that now he was curious.

Daryl released Carol's arms and brought his hands down, pulling her underwear down. She moved her legs and helped him get them off. He came back to her, gently putting his tongue out and licking her. She moaned and her hand came down, rubbing at herself. He moved her hand and put his mouth where her fingertips had been, sucking her. She cried out and bucked against him.

Daryl couldn't stand it any longer. He felt around and found one of the boxes of condoms. He ripped the top of the box off and dug one of the squares out, ripping the package quickly with his teeth. He was thankful that the damn things weren't complicated to figure out. As he rolled it on, Carol lie on the bed, spread out and exposed, watching him.

Daryl knew the basics of this shit whether or not he'd ever done it, and he hoped that the basics were all you really needed to know. He grabbed Carol by the hips and positioned himself. He thrust into her and immediately the feeling of her wrapped around him drove him to want more. He thrust again, but realized she wasn't making the same noises she had before, and now her fingers were digging into his hip bones and pushing him. He stopped moving, panting, and looked at her.

For a moment he stayed that way, his eyes locked on hers. She didn't say anything, but her facial expression relaxed after a few minutes and Daryl felt her releasing the pressure of her fingers digging into him. He kissed her, and she responded to the kiss. He felt her body relaxing more and he slowly returned to thrusting. This time she moved her body in response to his, rocking her hips so that they met his with each thrust.

Once Daryl reached his peak again and came, he rolled off of her. She rolled over a second later and handed him the paper bag to discard the used condom. She dropped it over the side of the bed and draped herself against his chest, kissing his chin.

Daryl caught her under the arms and drug her farther onto his body. She kissed his lips and hovered over him a moment, brushing at his hair with her fingertips. He was enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his.

"I don't think ya enjoyed that as much as I wanted ya to," he said after a minute. She smiled, her face inches from his. She kissed him again, her fingers still in his hair.

"As long as you wanted me to enjoy it," she said, pulling out of the kiss, her breath blowing on his face and still smelling faintly of peppermint, "then it just means it'll keep getting better."

She lingered there a minute and he felt sorry that he hadn't made her feel like he'd wanted to make her feel. She hadn't made any of the noises that he'd heard coming from the room next to his since they'd moved to this town. She'd hardly made any noise at all.

Apparently his face must have given away his thoughts because Carol brought her lips back to his, softly.

"Hey," she said, pulling away, "there's plenty of time and you certainly bought enough condoms for all the practice you can handle."

She smiled and he couldn't help but smile back. He leaned his head up, finding her lips with his again. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed, pulling her body as close to his as he could get it.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: So I'm not 100% thrilled with this chapter, and that happens from time to time, but it's something for you and it keeps our story moving forward.**

**I'm getting back into my academic writing now and it's hard to switch those gears from time to time. I'm hoping that's what's making this chapter less than great in my opinion and not the fact that it's terrible. **

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! As always, I thank you all for reading!**

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Daryl was snatched out of his slumber by the sound of pounding. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and then he jumped a little when it sunk in around him that he was sleeping in Carol's bed. What was more than that, was the fact that she was sleeping next to him, half on top of him, and they were both naked.

Daryl had honestly thought the entire thing might have been a dream. He'd gotten used to the fact that he slept alone, and he'd pretty much believed that he would always sleep alone. He wasn't the kind of man that was going to have some steady woman occupying his bed. Yet here he was, lying naked up under Carol.

The pounding continued and now Daryl could identify his brother's gruff voice outside the door.

"Bettah get'cha ass up, lil' brothah! Ya got a damn job ta do!" Merle called.

Daryl crawled unceremoniously over Carol and out of the bed, nearly falling in an attempt to get his leg over her. She stirred, starting to come around to the events unfolding around them. Daryl looked around and finally located his underwear. He pulled them on and ran his hand through his hair, shuffling through her apartment at the fastest speed he could. He ripped open the door and Merle stood in the doorway, already dressed for work. Beyond Merle he could see that the apartment door was open and Andrea was standing there in Merle's boxers and a dirty tank top, a coffee mug in her hands.

"Ya sleep in ya damn skivvys at someone else's house, boy?" Merle growled. "Thought I taught'cha better than that. Ya liable to give that little mouse a view a' somethin' that might scare her."

"Fuck ya want? I'm up!" Daryl barked.

"Don't'cha fuckin' be late fer work," Merle said. "Figured ya might not have an alarm clock over here."

"Ain't gonna be late," Daryl said.

Merle nodded and started down the stairs. Daryl stood there a moment. Andrea was smirking, leaning against the door frame of their apartment.

"Ya need somethin'?" Daryl asked.

Andrea shook her head. She smirked again.

"I made pancakes if you want 'em," she said. "You can bring Carol over if she's hungry. No rush, though."

Daryl grunted his response and shut the door to Carol's apartment again. He turned and headed back to the bedroom to get his clothes. Carol was lying in bed, looking at him. Her hair was a mess and she was smiling at him.

"Wake up call?" She asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Assholes," Daryl said. Carol chuckled.

The phone started ringing and Carol crawled out of bed and went to answer it. Daryl started pulling on his pants, craning a little around the doorway to look at her. She hadn't so much as bothered with putting on a single thing. She was standing, now, completely naked and talking on the phone. The night before hadn't been a dream at all.

Daryl dug his shirt out of the pile of clothes and one lonely discarded blanket. Various boxes of condoms lie scattered around and several of the loose ones from the box he'd opened were strung about. He wondered, for a moment, if they were supposed to have some sort of conversation about this, and what he might be supposed to say if they were.

"That was Michonne," Carol said, coming back into the bedroom. She went to her dresser and Daryl watched as she shimmied into a pair of pink underwear. He felt himself start to go hard and he tried to distract himself. "I'm supposed to be babysitting for her and she's sending Shane over to pick me up. They got Ed. He's in jail and apparently hasn't mentioned anything about pressing charges."

Daryl knew that the focus of this conversation was supposed to be about Ed being in jail and the fact that he wasn't bringing any charges against him for their brawl in the middle of the street, but suddenly he found himself far more distracted by the thought that Shane was on his way to pick Carol up. Daryl stood there, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and trying to figure out how he was supposed to respond to this. He wasn't entirely sure what the night before them had meant, and he didn't know how he could find out without looking like an idiot.

Carol finished dressing and sat on the bed, putting her shoes on. She smiled at him and he smiled nervously back.

"Andrea made pancakes," he said, finally deciding that he had to say something but not knowing what to say.

"Are you asking me to eat pancakes with you?" Carol asked.

Daryl swallowed and realized his mouth was dry. He shrugged.

"Ya can if ya want 'em. She always makes enough pancakes for everyone," Daryl said.

"I would, but Shane's already on his way, and Michonne always makes breakfast so the girls have something to eat," Carol said.

Daryl suddenly had no idea what to do with himself or with the situation. He had no precedent for this kind of thing.

"I reckon I better go so ya can get ready," Daryl said, ignoring the fact that Carol was already dressed and apparently about as ready as she was going to be.

Carol looked at him, and he wasn't sure, but he thought she looked a little sad or perhaps confused.

"OK," she said. "I hope you have a good day at work…"

"You too," Daryl said. He started through the apartment, aware that she was trailing after him.

"Are you coming by the Watering Hole tonight? Andrea and I are working," Carol said, just as his hand touched the doorknob.

"Prob'ly," Daryl said. He turned around a moment and Carol was standing a few feet in front of him. He wanted to kiss her, but he wasn't sure how she'd react. Finally he stepped forward, reaching his arm out toward her and she met him. It hadn't gone anything like he'd planned for it to go. Instead of gently kissing her, he'd accidentally head butted her. She rubbed her forehead for a moment, smiling at him and then stepped up on her toes, pulling his head to hers and kissing him.

When they broke apart, Daryl smiled and Carol smiled back.

"Reckon I oughta go," he said, suddenly unsure of how to leave the apartment correctly.

"I'll see you tonight?" Carol asked. Daryl nodded and turned, opening the door and disappearing into his apartment to change his shirt and scarf down some pancakes before he had to leave for Hershel Greene's farm.

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When Daryl got to the Water Ho, he was exhausted. Hershel had decided to get his money's worth out of Daryl for the day. As he stepped in the door, he immediately scanned the room for Carol. He didn't see her at first and reasoned that she must be in the back either taking dirty glasses back to be washed or bringing clean ones out.

The same assholes that always populated the bar were there, and Daryl slowly realized that they probably thought the same thing about him whenever he slipped through the door and made his way directly to the bar where his older brother sat.

Merle was sitting in his customary spot. A bottle of whiskey and a shot glass in front of him. Daryl pulled himself up on the bar and Merle reached over the side and felt around for a moment, coming out with another shot glass. He put it in front of Daryl and uncorked the bottle, pouring a shot of the amber liquid.

"Ya gon' thank me, lil' brothah," Merle said, shoving the cork back into the half empty bottle.

Daryl picked up the shot and swallowed it in one gulp, ignoring the burn and the fact that he hated the taste of the shit.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Daryl asked.

"'Cause ya big brothah's lookin' out fer ya, that's why, Derlina," Merle said.

Daryl didn't pay him too much attention as Merle reached over and plucked the pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket.

"Ya smell like shit, Daryl, what tha fuck that ole man got'cha doin'?" Merle asked, lighting a cigarette. Daryl picked up the pack and shook one out for himself, snatching the lighter out of his brother's grip.

"Damn near had me rollin' 'round in cow shit today," Daryl said, taking a drag off his cigarette. "Now what the fuck am I s'posed ta be thankin' ya sorry ass for anyway?"

"Ya ain't seen tha sweet lil' biscuit they done brought in here?" Merle asked. Merle turned his head and nodded in the direction of some of the tables. Daryl turned slightly and noticed an olive skinned brunette leaning over a table in Daisy Duke shorts and a cut off tank top. Her whole middle out. "Name's Mary Ann," Merle growled.

"So?" Daryl asked. He turned his attention back to the front just in time to see Carol come by carrying a tray of beer glasses. He smiled at her, but she was focused on not dropping the glasses and hadn't seen him. He watched her for a moment as she walked over to one of the tables where three men who'd already had more than enough were sitting.

"So? So I been talkin' her up for ya, Derlina. She's a bit too young for me, but she's just right for you. Lil' small town girl like that? Ya oughta be just right for rufflin' her parent's feathers, an' she'd like that," Merle said. Daryl was barely listening to him. "Mmm hmmm…might even still be a lil' red left on that cherry, boy. Ya listenin' ta me, Daryl?"

Daryl was watching Carol now as she circled around the restaurant, smiling and speaking to the liquor sodden assholes hanging around the tables. He jumped when Merle smacked him on the arm.

"Fuck ya want?" Daryl growled.

"Pay attention here, boy!" Merle said. "I'm tryin' ta help ya out an' ya got the damn attention span of lil' girl!"

"Fine, I'm listenin'," Daryl said. "The fuck ya wanta say?"

"I was sayin' that ya could get'cha some a' that if ya could focus for more than five damn minutes, boy!" Merle said.

"Some a' what?" Daryl asked. He realized now that he was supposed to have been paying attention to Merle's babbling, but it was difficult to do given the circumstances. The whole day he hadn't been able to get his mind off of Carol. He kept playing over and over what had happened the night before. What she looked like, there with her clothes off, what she'd felt like. All day long he'd had to fight himself to keep from busting out of his pants. Now that he was in the bar with her it was driving him crazy having to watch her go from table to table. Every now and again he saw some asshole stare at her tits or reach out to pinch her ass and it was all he could do not to come off his stool and punch the man. He didn't know how the hell Merle held that shit together night after night with Andrea.

"I swear ya fuckin' adopted," Merle growled. "Some a' that pussy, Derlina."

Daryl watched as Merle waved his hand, flagging down the brunette in the denim underwear. She smiled a cheerleader grin and left the table she was busy waiting on, sauntering across the room. She came over to Merle and hung on his arm, flashing her smile in his face and batting her doe eyes at him. Daryl fought the urge to curl his lip.

"Sweet cheeks," Merle said with a grin, "this here's my baby brothah I was tellin' ya 'bout."

Mary Ann turned her attention from Merle and smiled at Daryl, releasing Merle's arm.

"I'm Mary Ann," she said, flashing her smile at him.

Daryl nodded at her and watched as Merle poured him another shot. Daryl knew this girl was too young for Merle and figured there was a good chance that she was too young for him. He thought she very well was as close to twenty as she could be and still be able to serve drinks in a dive like this without costing Loretta her license.

"Merle here told me all about ya," she said, circling around Daryl then and coming up on the other side of him. Daryl noticed that she got far closer to him than he thought was reasonable, and before he could say anything, she'd wrapped her arms around his right arm. He sat uncomfortably for a moment before shaking her arm off and picking up his shot glass to take a drink.

Daryl realized that Merle had no idea that he'd slept with Carol the night before, and Daryl wasn't sure if he should actually tell his brother that he had. On the one hand, Carol was still married to Ed, and if she was worried about him thinking that something was going on between them, the last thing Daryl needed to do was run his mouth and remove all doubt. Merle wasn't exactly a closed mouth individual, especially not when he was liquored up. On the other hand, what Merle didn't know had now earned Daryl an ornament, and it wasn't one that he wanted.

"Ain't much ta know 'bout me," Daryl said, trying not to make eye contact with the perky brunette. He glanced over his shoulder in search of Carol, but he could only find Andrea on the side of him that didn't have Mary Ann draped over it.

"Don't be shy, boy, ya got'cha a pretty lil' thing tryin' ta talk ta ya," Merle said. He winked at Mary Ann and Daryl heard her giggle in his ear. He was damn near sweating.

"Might oughta get back ta work, huh?" Daryl said, trying desperately to figure out how to rid himself of the new parasite that his brother had introduced him to. He turned slightly and saw that the girl hadn't lost the overly flashy smile that she was wearing.

"I get off in an hour," she said, leaning into Daryl a little.

"Good ta know," Daryl said, flippantly.

Mary Ann finally walked away then, and Daryl poured himself another shot. He was pretending that he couldn't feel his brother's eyes burning into the side of his neck.

"Fuck was that?" Merle asked.

Daryl looked at him and shrugged.

"Not my type," Daryl said.

"Ya dick's gon' fall off if ya don't never use it, boy," Merle said. "Don't know why ya so damn scared a' that shit. I swear, soon as ya finally man up an' get'cha some ass ya gonna be damn pathetic 'cause ya ain't gon' know what ta do with that shit."

"If I'm gonna be so damn pathetic then why ya tryin' ta hook me up with Barbie over there?" Daryl asked.

Merle sucked his teeth, but didn't respond. Daryl knew that Merle was disappointed. For some reason Merle seemed to see it as some kind of badge of honor that Dixon men were known for their conquests. His entire life Daryl had seen Merle go from one woman to the next, thinking less about throwing them away than anyone else would a used tissue. In fact, it had only been since their arrival in Sweet Junction that Daryl had ever seen Merle spend so much time with any one woman, even it was a woman who was just as blind as Merle to the fact that though they both bragged about how much they didn't care about each other, they hadn't exactly been playing the field.

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Carol was having just as bad a night as Andrea was, maybe even worse. Mary Ann was driving them both insane. Since she'd gotten there, she'd gotten nearly every tip that was left behind.

It wasn't so much the money, since they'd still split all tips three ways, as much as it was what it symbolized. She and Andrea were both working the tables like they normally would, but the men were holding out their tips. They were purposefully waiting until Mary Ann circled close to the tables and then they were offering the folded money out to her, tucked between their fingers, with hungry expressions on their faces. She was getting tips for tables she hadn't gone close to before the offerings were made.

To make matters worse, Merle had been schmoozing Mary Ann for the better part of the evening and the girl had been shamelessly hanging on him and rubbing her body against him. Carol knew that Andrea was doing her best to pretend that she didn't care and that Mary Ann's flirtation with Merle meant nothing, but every now and again Carol caught the expression of anger on Andrea's face.

Now, to make matters worse, Daryl was in the bar and Mary Ann had latched onto him. Carol had seen her hanging on him, whispering in his ear, her damn fake grim plastered on her face. Carol was trying not to let it bother her, but it made her stomach churn whenever she saw Mary Ann so much as looking in his direction.

Carol realized she had no claim over the youngest Dixon brother. She had less claim over him than Andrea had over Merle, but it still burned her to see the peppy young girl making eyes at him and brushing far too close to him to refill his shot glass.

Carol was beginning to wonder what in the world she'd been thinking the night before. She'd slept with Daryl, and he'd obviously been a virgin, but that didn't mean that she had any right to dictate what he did. If anything, she worried, she may have inspired him to want something with Mary Ann that he might not have known he wanted before. Maybe now that he'd had sex with her he'd be curious to know what it was like with other women, and the truth of the matter was she had no right to deny him that.

She was still technically married to Ed. She was the last person that could Daryl Dixon not to do anything with Mary Ann Walsh. If he wanted to do it, he had every right.

Carol tried to distract herself and turned her attention to one of the tables where two drunks were sitting, very obviously having reached their limit if they wanted to make it out the door without being arrested by Rick Grimes for public drunkenness just outside. She smiled at them, loading their empty glasses onto her tray and asked them if there was anything else they might want, making sure to bend as much as she dared over the table.

One of them very obviously ogled her cleavage, but they both denied the desire for any further refreshment. She lingered a moment, waiting to see if they would leave a tip, but they both slid out of their seats without offering her any payment for her services throughout the evening.

As they stumbled toward the door, nearly knocking another man out of his chair, she noticed one of them catch the attention of Mary Ann, who was doing more to hold the poker machine in place than she was to actually wait any tables, and when she sashayed over, he slipped her the tip that should have been Carol's.

Carol felt her face burn hot. She shot a look at Andrea across the room and saw from her expression that Andrea had seen it too. Carol heaved up the tray of glasses and stormed toward the back to drop them in the tub for washing later. Mary Ann was getting their tips, and if that wasn't bad enough, Loretta had her working part time for the night. That meant that Andrea and Carol would be the ones that would be left with the abstinent, rowdy last rounders, and they'd also be left doing all the cleaning for the night.

Andrea came to the back just as Carol was turning to head back out front and they very nearly plowed into one another.

"Did you see that?" Carol hissed at Andrea. "That was MY tip!"

"I'm going to break Merle's damn fingers before the night is through," Andrea hissed back.

Carol smiled.

"I thought you didn't care what Merle did?" Carol said, tipping her head to the side.

"I don't give a damn what Merle Dixon does," Andrea said, angrily pointing her finger at Carol. Carol knew that Andrea wasn't really mad with her though. "So long as he isn't fuckin' doing it with Mary Ann Walsh!"

"Can we tell Loretta not to put her on the same nights as us again?" Carol asked.

"One step ahead of ya," Andrea said. "I called Loretta already. Seems Mary Ann had some kind of pageant shit going on for tomorrow night when she was supposed to be working, so Loretta moved her to tonight. I told her if she didn't want me to quit then she wouldn't put the little cunt on my time slot again."

Carol snickered.

"Boy, you're even more fired up than I thought you were," Carol said. Andrea flashed a smile at her that Carol had already learned was fake. It was the same smile she flashed at the overly drunk customers who did charming things like grabbed your boobs or vomited on your shoes. "If you need to, you're welcome to stay at my house tonight," Carol said.

Andrea looked toward the front, though they couldn't see anything because of the partition.

"If I see Merle so much as smiles at her again, I'm taking you up on that offer," Andrea hissed.

Carol nodded at her and started back out front. As she rounded the corner her eyes immediately fell on Mary Ann. She had slid up to the bar between the stools that the Dixon brothers occupied. Carol immediately felt her stomach churn again. Andrea would likely be sleeping on her couch, and that might make her point with Merle, but Carol realized she had no such weapon to use with Daryl. If Mary Ann wanted him, and he wanted her, there wasn't really anything that Carol could do about it. She quickly averted her eyes from the spectacle and tried to focus her attention on waiting on ungrateful customers, instead of on the unwelcomed feeling of jealousy she felt burning inside her.


	21. Chapter 21

Daryl was very happy that he didn't have to work the next day and he knew that Merle wouldn't be working either. Merle would be calling in sick, and from the looks of it, it wouldn't be a far cry from the truth.

What was definitely clear, Daryl thought as he sat on the counter in the kitchen while Merle somewhat paced about the confined area carrying a whisky bottle as a security blanket, was that neither of them were getting any sleep at all, and neither of them were getting much of anything else.

Andrea was pissed. That much would have been obvious to a blind man and Daryl thought the whole thing was ridiculous. She'd stormed home when they'd been trying to walk both her and Carol home from the Water Ho, and before either Merle or Daryl knew quite what was happening, Andrea had made her way out of the apartment with her arms full of clothes and other random items and had stormed right into Carol's apartment, slamming the door.

Daryl knew that there had been some kind of fight, though he hadn't been privy to the details. Andrea had asked to see Merle, and she'd escorted him around back of the bar, taking it outside. Daryl had stayed firmly glued to his barstool, deciding that his brother could handle his own disputes, especially when they were disputes between himself and the woman that he claimed to have no genuine interest in.

During Merle's absence a couple of biker type men that Daryl hadn't seen before stumbled into the Water Ho, announcing loudly, probably given to the fact that they'd already been drinking prior to their arrival, that there was some hell cat behind the bar running some poor asshole ragged. A typical dispute, clearly, between some drunk cuss and his old woman.

Daryl had simply sat at the bar and smirked. He had nothing else to do really, at the moment, besides smoke cigarette after cigarette and watch as Carol made the rounds, trying to hold down all the tables. The other waitress, the girl Merle was trying to shove into his face, had left just before Andrea had had forced Merle outside to have his earful.

And now, as a result of whatever took place behind the Water Ho that night, an event that would likely go down in the history books of Sweet Junction, Daryl knew that he wasn't sleeping. Merle was wound up tighter than the strings on a nickel and dime guitar, and he was storming back and forth around the kitchen spitting out phrases and words that didn't go together and which Daryl wasn't trying to make any sense of anyway.

What Daryl knew was that Andrea was pissed at Merle and Merle was pissed at Andrea, though he imagined they could very well be pissed at each other for very different reasons. He knew, also, that Carol was apparently feeding off Andrea's overall mood for some reason and had been dismissive of him when he'd tried to separate them both from the disputing lovers on the sidewalk. Now Andrea was in Carol's apartment for the night, and Daryl wasn't really sure how he was going to get back over there to try his hand again at what they'd done the night before if he couldn't get Merle to calm down and go claim the blonde that had him singing the praises of Jack Daniels a little louder than usual.

"Stupid fuckin' whore," Merle spat. He took a drink from the bottle, no longer bothering with all the ceremony of a glass. Daryl eyed his brother and wished he knew how to get the bottle from him. The last thing he really wanted Merle to do was pass out cold before any of this had been put straight.

"Stop your fuckin' bitchin'," Daryl spat. "What the hell's got her so damn twisted up anyway? Ya fuck somethin' up?"

"She's pissed 'bout that damn little number down at tha bar, Daryl. The pussy I was tryin' ta fuckin' tree fer ya 'cause ya ain't got tha damn balls ta get'cha none fer ya'self!" Merle roared, turning toward Daryl. Daryl was somewhat glad that the card table was between them. He had no doubt that they would end up going a few rounds before Merle was calm about this, but at least for the moment there was a barrier between them.

"Well maybe if ya weren't so damn worried 'bout my dick an' ya spend more damn time worried 'bout ya own, then we wouldn't be in this fuckin' situation in the first place," Daryl responded.

He realized that he was in just about the same mood as his brother. He was pissed, but for different reasons altogether. He knew he liked Carol, and he'd certainly liked what they'd done together. The one thing he could say his brother had ever been right about was that he would like pussy if he tried it, but his new problem was that he wasn't really anxious to take the route of his brother and run around finding one after the other to try out. He was simply interested in getting another shot at the one he'd already had, and because of his stupid prick of a brother who couldn't admit that he was just as fucking interested in the other woman across the hall, all Daryl's chances had probably been ruined for at least the night, and maybe longer if Merle couldn't manage to dislodge his head from his ass and see the clear light of reason.

"Blondie's fuckin' crazy," Merle spat. "I ain't havin' no bitch runnin' 'round makin' demands a' me! I'll do whatever I fuckin' please an' if I wanted ta fuck that lil' girl down there at tha bar ya can bet'cha damn blue balls that's what the hell I'd do."

"But you _don't_ wanta fuck her," Daryl growled back. "That's what this whole damn fight's about an' what'cha don't fuckin' realize is ya both fightin' on the same fuckin' side! She don't want'cha ta fuck that girl an' ya don't want ta fuck her, but now ya gotta fuckin' fight about it 'cause ya ain't got the balls ta tell her that ya weren't puttin' ya dick out there for no damn body else ta sit on!"

"This whole damn thing's yer damn fault," Merle said, starting to make his way around the card table now. "If ya weren't such a damn princess she'da seen that you was the one s'posed ta be rubbin' up on that lil' number an' then right about fuckin' now ya could be gettin' ya rocks off in the backseat a' that lil' girl's car an' Andrea wouldn't be tryin' ta boss my ass around."

"It's my fuckin' fault?" Daryl asked, coming off the counter to land on his feet only inches from his brother. "I didn't want ta be in the fuckin' back seat a' that girl's car no damn way. 'Cause a' you an' ya fucked up ideas, I'm stuck here in this nasty ass kitchen listenin' ta ya snort an' snarl when I'd much rather be 'cross that fuckin' hall right the fuck now!"

Merle stopped for a minute and sucked a moment on his bottle. As soon as it was away for his lips for a second, Daryl snatched the bottle from his hand and threw it at the sink. It landed with a loud clatter. Merle's fist made contact with the side of Daryl's face and Daryl wasn't surprised. He couldn't have expected it more if they'd discussed that it was going to happen beforehand.

Daryl didn't respond in any way to Merle's right hook. He'd taken it more than enough over the years that it was a nuisance more than anything. He stood firm in front of his brother, Merle's chest heaving, and waited for the next reaction.

"Don't'cha fuckin' snatch a damn thing outta my hands ever again, boy!" Merle spat. "I ain't fuckin' taught'cha ta act like ya don't got no damn respect. Ya best be rememberin' that it was always ole Merle that drug ya ass around an' kept ya from spendin' the rest a' ya fuckin' life behind some damn bars somewhere."

Daryl didn't apologize. He wasn't going to apologize, and up to now he never had. When Merle got drunk he had these thoughts of self-grandeur. He was a hero, Daryl's fucking knight in shining armor, when he was like this. In his mind he'd saved Daryl from every bad thing that could have happened to him. His imagination wiped clean the reality of all the times that Merle had run away when shit got bad, all the times that he'd ducked out on Daryl and left him to deal with their parents. He forgot, even, that it had been Merle more times than Daryl that had gone rounds with public officials, and it was Merle that had always been more likely to rot in a jail cell if one of the Dixon boys was going to find their demise there.

They stood there a moment longer and Daryl felt the anger dissolving within him. He was pissed, that much was true, but more than anything he felt sorry for his brother right now. He felt sorry for him now like he had so many times in the past. They both had their demons and they both had a lot of shit that they had to battle out. Each had fought their own fight and each had their own scars to show. They were different scars, but all scars ran equally as deep.

"Why the fuck ya gotta do this, Merle?" Daryl asked, his voice much calmer than it had been before. "Why the fuck is it so damn important ta ya that ya don't give a shit 'bout nobody?"

Merle stared at Daryl for a moment, the rise and fall of his own chest slowing. He looked down a moment, at the floor, and then back at Daryl, swallowing and raking his hand across his face. Somewhere behind the alcohol clouded judgment, Daryl knew that his brother heard him.

"Ya don't know shit," Merle said, his voice containing less venom than it had earlier.

Daryl growled, the frustration growing.

"I know that since we fuckin' moved to this piece a' shit town ya ain't been away from that damn woman hardly a couple a' hours," Daryl said. "I know she just fuckin' happens ta make lunch on the days that I ain't workin' an' decides she might as fuckin' well drive ya somethin' to eat out ta where ya workin'. An' I know ya pissed as hell right now an' it ain't 'cause she yelled at'cha an' it ain't 'cause she's bossin' ya around. Ya pisses 'cause she ain't fuckin' here!" Daryl said.

"I ain't no pussy, Daryl, an' I ain't crawlin' my ass 'cross no damn hall ta beg no damn woman. Merle Dixon don't beg," Merle said, jamming his finger into Daryl's chest.

Daryl sighed.

"Ya ain't gotta beg, Merle. Andrea don't seem like the kinda woman that would take ta no beggin' no damn way. All ya gotta do is go over there an' explain that ya weren't tryin' ta hit on that girl. Fuck, Merle, just admit that ya ain't fuckin' interested in hittin' on nobody. Hell, ya ain't even tried ta score no drugs since ya been here an' if it weren't for suckin' on that bottle like a damn baby she'd have ya damn near clean by now," Daryl said.

"She knows where tha hell we live," Merle said after a second, obviously choosing to ignore everything that Daryl had just said. "She can bring her ass back over her when she gets off her damn high horse."

"Fuck, Merle!" Daryl said. "Take ya ass over there now an' explain this shit an' we can all call it a damn night. An' ya might point out while the fuck ya over there that sickin' that damn lil' girl on me was ya own damn idea an' I ain't wanted no damn part a' it!"

"What'cha so damn worried about?" Merle asked. "Ya actin' like ya got somethin' ta prove here."

Daryl knew that he'd all but confessed that he had been with Carol and he'd all but confessed the feelings he had for her, feelings he wasn't comfortable with in the slightest, but they were there. He stared at Merle and Merle stared back at him. Finally a half smile crawled across Merle's brain and Daryl silently congratulated his sloppy ass brother for catching on.

"Ya fuckin' the mouse, boy?" Merle asked.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at Merle but didn't respond. Merle chuckled a little.

"We-ell," Merle drawled. He pushed around Daryl and made his way to the sink plucking the bottle out of it and holding it up to see what was left in there. He took another drink, though it wasn't the same kind of long and lazy pull that he'd been taking earlier. "My baby brothah finally decides ta stick his dick in somethin' an' wouldn't'cha know he ain't got the good damn since not ta go fuckin' with no married woman."

"She's divorcin' his worthless ass," Daryl said, not knowing really what to say to his brother. Merle turned to face him again. "An' don't talk about her like that. I weren't runnin' 'round tryin' ta stick my dick in somethin' an' just fuckin' fell in, it weren't like that."

"Damn, Derlina," Merle said. "I knew ya'd get hit hard when got'cha first taste, but I ain't never imagined ya'd get hit this damn hard. Ya gonna tell me ya didn't fuck her? What the hell'd ya do? Sit up an' whisper sweet nothin's in her damn ear all night?"

It was Daryl's turn to respond then, and without even knowing what swept over him he let his fist make contact with his brother's face. Merle snapped back almost instantly, his hand over his jaw where Daryl had hit him.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" Merle growled. "Ya fuckin' gone soft already, boy? Punch ya own damn brother in the face over another man's piece a' ass?"

"Ya shut ya mouth!" Daryl responded. Merle lowered his eyebrows at his brother.

"Ya really got it bad, don't'cha?" Merle asked. "Ya serious 'bout this?"

Daryl chewed at his thumb nail, not knowing yet if he trusted Merle to behave or not.

"Maybe ya oughta give that lil' girl a try after all, boy," Merle said. He put his hands up for a second as though he expected to try to deflect another punch from Daryl. "Ya ought not fall so damn hard for the first piece ya get. Ain't good for ya. Gotta try a couple more on for size 'fore ya just go decidin' ya done found what ya like."

"So I can be like you?" Daryl asked. He turned, moving away from his brother's sickening breath. He crossed the kitchen and leaned against the counter on the opposite side. "I don't fuckin' wanta be like you, runnin' 'round knowin' I found somethin' I fuckin' like but too damn chicken shit ta admit it."

Merle pulled out one of the chairs at the card table and sat down, still rubbing his jaw a little. He tipped the bottle in his hands into his mouth again and seemed to contemplate the flavor of the whiskey.

"Shouldn't be tryin' ta talk about shit ya don't know nothin' about," Merle said. "Just 'cause some little mouse let'cha go sniffin' 'round don't mean ya know shit 'bout women. Last damn thing ya want is ta end up gettin' tied to one." Merle turned to face Daryl then. He looked tired, all the anger seemed to have run out of him for the moment. He pointed his finger at Daryl. "Ya mark my word, brothah, ya don't want ta get tied ta none of 'em. I ain't never lied ta ya, an' I'm tellin' ya the truth now. Ya let one of 'em think they got the reins on ya an' the next damn thing ya know ya ain't even gon' recognize 'em an' they'll fuck ya lives up. Ole Ed's a damn asshole, an' I don't think he oughta go hittin' on that woman, but I bet'cha she ain't what tha hell he thought he was gettin' when he put that ring on her finger. Don't'cha go gettin' ya ass tangled up in that."

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned away without saying anything. Merle was drunk and probably didn't even know where the fuck he was anymore. When he got this drunk, especially if something was bothering him, and Daryl didn't give a shit what Merle said, he knew this whole situation with Andrea was bothering him, Merle had a tendency to start spouting shit. He never remembered it when he was sober, but it was always the same old shit in a different package. You couldn't count on anybody in the world, not a damn soul. Daryl slipped into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He washed his face first, with cold water, and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Daryl shook his head at his reflection. He needed to sleep, and nothing was being resolved tonight. He could hear Merle still in the kitchen, the clanking of glass ringing through the tiny apartment. He would likely drink every damn thing they had in the cabinet tonight and he'd regret it in the morning. Daryl had seen him in some pretty bad spots before, but it was different this time. Merle was preaching, even now he was still babbling as though Daryl were listening, but there was no conviction in his voice. Whatever Merle was battling with, and whatever he thought he needed to convince Daryl of, it was obvious that Merle was working harder to convince himself.

Daryl brushed his teeth quickly and went into his bedroom, closing the door. His bed, or rather his mattress and the nasty worn blanket and flat pillow that constituted what he called a bed, was disgusting. He flopped down on it with no other option, remembering that just the night before, in a state that was too good to be reality, he'd fallen asleep with Carol's warm body pressed against him, the smell of peppermint and some kind of fruity shampoo filling his nostrils, the taste of her still in his mouth. Now he was falling asleep on this nasty excuse for a bed while his brother tried to drink himself into oblivion in the next room. And all of it was in the name of that damned Dixon pride.

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The noise from across the hall was difficult to ignore. The walls in the building might as well be made out of pasteboard, and the sound of the Dixon men drifted right into Carol's living room. Carol sat, her feet drawn up under her, on one end of the couch while Andrea lounged on the other end, her head resting against the back of the couch. They couldn't make out what was being said, but it was clear there was some kind of argument taking place.

"You don't suppose they're going to actually fight, do you?" Carol asked.

"They might," Andrea said, yawning a little. "I don't give a damn. Let 'em wail on each other a little. Might do 'em some damn good."

"What did Merle say, when you confronted him?" Carol asked.

"Fuck him," Andrea said. "And fuck Mary Ann Walsh too. Damn Walsh family is nothing but trouble, every damn one of them, and just because they've got a little fucking money and some kind of 'family name'," she raised her hands, making air quotes at Carol, "they get away with whatever they want in this town and everyone turns a blind eye to it. Well I can see it, even if Merle Dixon can't."

Carol stifled the chuckle that rose up in her throat. It was obvious that Andrea still hadn't come down from the annoyance she felt at the bar.

"So he said he was interested in her?" Carol asked.

"What?" Andrea asked, looking at Carol as though she had no idea what they'd been talking about. "Oh…no…he didn't really say anything," Andrea said. She ran her fingers through her hair and focused her attention on picking a knot out of a few strands. "You saw how he was looking at her, and how she was acting."

"I saw it," Carol said, "but I also saw her rubbing her tits all over Daryl. Maybe it wasn't Merle she was interested in."

Andrea sucked her teeth and continued trying to separate the tangled strands of hair with her fingers.

"She's too damn young for Merle Dixon anyway," Andrea said. "She'd only be doing anything with him to piss her parents off…wouldn't matter anyway because no one in town would dare their run their mouths about the precious little bitch."

"Do you think she's too young for Daryl?" Carol asked. She wanted to know if Andrea thought that Daryl had paid the girl any extra attention, but it was becoming markedly clear that Andrea hadn't so much as paid an ounce of attention to the interaction between Mary Ann and the younger of the Dixons.

"What?" Andrea asked. "Daryl? I don't know if she's too young for him. Hell, I don't even know how old either one of them really is, but I do know that Mary Ann Walsh is barely legal to be working at Loretta's. She probably still needs a babysitter to make sure she doesn't choke on hard candy."

Carol chuckled.

"So are we still pretending that you don't like Merle?" Carol asked.

"I don't like Merle," Andrea said.

Carol rolled her eyes and stretched her leg out, kicking Andrea gently on the thigh. Andrea smiled a little and rolled her eyes toward Carol, not moving her head.

"Stop it, I don't," she protested. "I don't care what he does. Fuck him! What the hell am I supposed to do with an asshole like Merle Dixon anyway? My life's fucked up enough as it is without adding that level of difficulty."

"What do you want out of life, Andrea?" Carol asked.

"What the hell do you mean?" Andrea asked. "Look around you, Carol, what the hell else could a girl want out of life that I don't already have? I've got an amazing job working at fucking Buckingham Palace. My Rolls Royce is always shiny and gassed up for wherever the hell I need to go to show my face. I practically live in the penthouse of the Beverly Wilshire…what's there to want?"

Carol snickered a little.

"I'm serious, Andrea. I don't believe for a minute you're living your dreams right now. What do you want? Close your eyes…picture your perfect life. Not your bullshit life, your perfect one. Tell me what you want out of life," Carol said.

Andrea rolled her eyes.

"I don't know," she said, picking at the cover on the couch. "OK? I don't fucking know what I want. Nobody's ever asked me what the hell I want," Andrea said.

"You should think about it," Carol said. "Maybe if you had a goal…then you'd have something you felt like you were working toward. You know, something you could see yourself achieving instead of just feeling like you woke up every day to relive the same shitty existence you lived the day before."

Andrea smirked a little.

"Me…achieve anything? You've got some delusions, don't you? My biggest achievement was graduating high school without having a kid," Andrea said. She was quiet for a minute. "And no, if you were wondering, I didn't get knocked up in high school. That was just another lie cooked up in the gossip crockpot of Sweet Junction."

Carol nodded her head in understanding. She'd never asked Andrea if half the things that she'd heard about her were true, and now she knew for a fact one more thing was a lie.

"Why do you let them do it?" Carol asked.

Andrea looked at, raising her eyebrows in question.

"You let the people around here talk shit about you," Carol said. "I know you hear it. Why don't you put a stop to it?"

Andrea shrugged.

"What's more exciting in a town like Sweet Junction, Carol? The reality or the scandal? No one would listen if I told them the truth, they never did. Besides, it's kind of freeing, actually. Doesn't matter how bad I fuck it up, you know? No one bats an eye when I do fuck up because they figure I've done it all before," Andrea said.

Carol wasn't sure how to respond. She had her own reputation in the town, though the roles they played were very different. The setting was the same, though.

"What do you want? What's your dream?" Andrea asked, yawning.

Carol shifted her weight, sliding down on the couch some. She ignored the fact that they'd both wiggled into position so that they were almost on top of one another, one of them with a head at one end of the couch, and one with a head at the other.

"My dream's the same it's always been," Carol said.

"Well I know it wasn't being Ed's punching bag," Andrea said, "so what the fuck did little Carol Ann McAlister dream about?"

Carol giggled.

"My dream isn't very special, and it really isn't all that popular," Carol said.

"Well hell fuck," Andrea said, chuckling. "Give it a try anyway, impress me."

"I always wanted the cheezy fifties' housewife dream," Carol said. "Some small little suburban house, a husband, a dog, five or six kids…the Leave it to Beaver type life."

"Sounds more like Yours, Mine, and Ours with six kids, Carol," Andrea said.

"Well that part's negotiable," Carol said with a snicker.

"And a real working dishwasher?" Andrea teased.

Carol nodded.

"And a real working dishwasher," she said.

"You might as well come in black and white," Andrea said. Carol hummed her agreement. "It isn't a bad dream, though, you could do worse."

"I _have_ done worse," Carol said.

"There's that…" Andrea said.

"Do you think Merle Dixon is part of your dream?" Carol asked Andrea. She didn't dare to think what Daryl's response might be to hearing hers.

"I don't know that it's even patriotic to use the words Merle Dixon and dream in the same sentence, Carol," Andrea said, chuckling.

Carol shrugged.

"Just because it doesn't fit in someone's dream, doesn't mean it doesn't make the dream for someone else," Carol said.

"You might be right," Andrea said. She got quiet and Carol did too. Carol considered getting up and moving to her bed, but she didn't feel like moving. She closed her eyes, deciding to stay there for just a while before Andrea finally kicked her off the couch. The noise across the hall had died down now. Whatever had taken place over there was finished, at least for the night.


	22. Chapter 22

Daryl woke up with his head pounding. He'd had a few drinks the night before, but nothing that should have thrown his head for the loop that it was in right now. He knew, though, if he felt this way that Merle was very likely dead or would soon wish he was. Daryl crawled off his bed and stretched. The springs of the ratty ass mattress had managed to make his back ache almost as much as his head, and he was very grateful that he wasn't expected to be on Hershel Greene's farm that morning for a round of bovine torture.

Daryl got up and shuffled into a pair of pants. He looked around for a clean shirt, but realized that he didn't have many left. Someone was going to have to find a laundry mat and do laundry. He sniffed one of his shirts and decided that there wasn't going to be any re-wearing of these. He dug out one of the last clean ones from his drawer and hoped that Merle got his shit straight with Andrea soon...and that when she came back she wanted to wash some clothes.

Daryl slipped through the kitchen and found his brother passed out on the floor, leaned against the cabinets, and surrounded by several empty and half empty liquor bottles. The smell of spilled liquor saturated the kitchen and Daryl cringed a little. Merle was going to feel like shit when he woke up, and right about now Daryl thought he deserved it.

Daryl found his brother's wallet thrown on the counter next to the refrigerator and dug through it, finally coming up with the phone number of who Daryl hoped was his boss. He took the number and stepped out of the apartment, crossing the hall and knocking on Carol's door.

Carol opened the door and a number of thoughts crossed Daryl's mind all at once. A wonderful smell drifted out of the apartment and his stomach growled. Second to that was the thought that Carol, standing there in a loose t shirt with obviously no bra on, and short cotton shorts, was making it hard for him to breathe. Finally, and this was the thought that made it to his lips, he realized she'd opened the door without asking who it was.

"Fuck ya doin' openin' the door like that? Ya don't know I weren't fuckin' Ed," Daryl said.

Carol wrinkled her brow at him and opened the door a little wider so that he could see her arm that was out of his vision. She was holding the biggest damn kitchen knife he'd ever seen. He swallowed and nodded.

"Got'cha," he said. "Can I use ya phone? I need ta call Merle's boss."

Carol stepped out of the doorway and put the knife on the counter.

"Why can't Merle call his own boss?" Andrea's voice rang out. Daryl looked around for a second, forgetting for a brief instant that she was in the apartment and spotted her sitting on the couch.

"If he's fuckin' breathin' it'll be a miracle," Daryl growled. He walked over to Carol's phone and dialed the number, waiting until someone answered. He didn't know his brother's boss' name, so he just said that he was calling for Merle Dixon. The man on the other line knew who he was talking about, so he explained that Merle was really sick and couldn't make it into work that day, but he'd probably be able to make it in the next. The man on the phone didn't seem pissed, so Daryl was relieved for that. The last damn thing they needed right now was for Merle to lose his job just because he was a dumbass.

When Daryl hung up, he turned around and saw Carol cooking. The heavenly smell made his stomach growl again.

"What'cha makin'?" He asked.

"Pancakes, sausage, scrambled eggs," Carol said. "You hungry?"

Daryl didn't even wait to be asked twice. He took a seat at the little kitchen table and waiting without saying anything. He kept eying Andrea who was eying him.

"Why don't'cha go over there an' talk ta Merle?" Daryl asked, finally. He was tired of the blonde eying him. He had the perfect view to admire Carol's ass in the soft cotton shorts she was wearing, but he didn't feel comfortable doing it with Andrea staring at him like he was going to do something entertaining.

"If Merle Dixon wants to talk to me, I reckon he can find me," Andrea said. "You sure didn't have a hard time sniffing out breakfast when I wasn't there cooking for you."

"Merle ain't sniffin' nothin' right now," Daryl said. "He done drank hisself into a coma, an' it's all 'cause ya had ta run ya ass over here an' start shit."

Daryl turned his eyes a little toward Carol. She was cooking and arranging food on plates, pretending that she didn't hear him and Andrea.

"I didn't start anything," Andrea said. "Let Mary Ann Walsh take care of his hungover ass," she growled. "I don't remember birthing either one of you, so as far as I'm concerned I don't have any responsibilities here."

"Listen, Andrea, Merle weren't tryin' ta fuck Mary Ann Walsh. He was tryin' ta make me fuck Mary Ann," Daryl said. He noticed that Carol looked briefly over her shoulder before turning back to the pan in front of her and he felt his face grow red. "An' I weren't tryin' ta fuck her neither. It was all one damn big misunderstandin'."

"Well that's sweet," Andrea said, sharply, "is that supposed to make me go over there now and take care of him or what? I'm out of practice on what constitutes a Dixon style apology."

Daryl growled. If he believed in hitting women, there would have been more than one occasion when he would have punched Andrea square in the nose. This would be one of them. He had to behave, though, primarily because he _did_ want her to go take care of Merle. He'd rather eat pancakes with Carol alone than have the blonde hovering over him. He also kind of hoped that she'd feel inclined to wash his clothes when she finally went back to Merle, and if he punched her in the nose there was a good chance that she might not want to do that.

"I can't 'pologize for Merle," Daryl said, "an' I ain't sure Merle's ever said he was sorry for a single damn thing in his life, but if ya go an' look at him ya gonna see that even if he don't say it, he's 'bout as sorry as an asshole like him can get."

Carol came over then, carrying two plates. She put one down in front of Daryl and put the other in front of an empty chair.

"Come on over here and get breakfast," she said. "You can go and see how sorry Merle is once you've eaten."

Andrea got up from the couch and took her place at the table across from Daryl. Carol shuffled about a few more minutes bringing her own plate and glasses of juice for everyone. Daryl turned his attention, then, to eating.

"Damn good," he said around bites of sausage and pancakes.

Andrea was watching him again.

"Thank you, Daryl," Carol said.

Daryl half smiled at her, still shoveling in his own food and noticing that she ate a lot slower than he did. He tried to slow his pace to match hers a little better and looked back at Andrea. She was eating slowly and still watching him.

"Stop lookin' at me," he commanded finally. "Can't digest my damn food with ya eyeballs all over me like that. If ya so damn butthurt about it, why don't'cha go an' hit him upside his big damn head an' be done with it. I ain't did nothin'!"

Andrea didn't say anything, but Carol did shoot him a look, so Daryl mumbled an apology and went back to eating. He wasn't sure that he understood women at all, but it appeared that they had some sort of secret alliance. As long as Andrea was there she was protected by Carol in some sort of woman forged force field and anything he said to her was going to make Carol make that disapproving face at him. Daryl didn't like this idea very much. He had a feeling that the disapproving face meant that wasn't thinking about what they did the other night, so he decided to keep his mouth shut and eat his breakfast, trying very hard to ignore the fact that Andrea kept looking at him.

When he'd finished eating, Daryl sat back in his chair watching the two women eat. No one was talking, but they kept looking at each other and he wondered if they had some kind of way of communicating without using words.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Andrea put her fork down and sighed.

"Fine, I guess I'm going to go over there and see if the asshole's ready to apologize," she said.

Daryl looked at her and then looked at Carol. Carol just nodded at Andrea, smiling a little. When Andrea got up and went out the apartment, closing the door, Daryl thought he might explode at the chance. Carol got up from the table and collected up the dishes, walking them over to the sink and dropping them in. Daryl quickly walked up behind her, momentarily unsure of what to do, but driven by the fact that Andrea was finally across the hall. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Carol's waist, pulling her back against him. He was already hard, and the feeling of her flush against him made him even harder. She gasped a little.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

Daryl kissed her neck, nipping at the skin that was showing before her shirt started.

"I been thinkin' 'bout'cha an' she's gone now," he said. He wasn't sure if this was OK, but he'd never wanted anything quite like he wanted this right now and he was willing to do anything that he had to in order to get it.

"Daryl, Andrea is just across the hall talking to Merle," Carol said.

Daryl didn't let go of her waist. Instead he tightened his grip on her a little, pulling her back against him again, grinding into her a little with the contact. For the first time in his life he was considering begging. Merle might say that Dixons didn't beg, but Merle was a dumbass.

"So let her stay over there," Daryl said. Carol moaned a little and it drove him to grind against her again. He was so hard that he could hardly stand it.

"Daryl, she could come right back," Carol argued.

"So we lock the damn door," Daryl growled. He let up on her enough to turn her around and he backed her against the sink, involuntarily grinding again. He looked at her, swallowing hard. She was looking at him, her eyes dancing a little like they had the night before and he took that as a promising sign. He wanted to cross to the door and lock it, but he was afraid if he broke the contact they had right now she'd have the chance to change her mind, assuming that he'd convinced her.

"Daryl, I don't know if this is right," Carol said. She looked away from him for a minute and he felt his stomach sink.

"No, it's right," he said. "It's good." He was desperate. He wasn't even really sure what it was that he was trying to convince her was right, but if she needed it to be right then it would fucking be right, that was all there was to it.

"I'm still married, Daryl," Carol said.

Daryl let his hands slide down her back and over the soft skin of her ass. He buried his fingers into it and she gasped again. He pulled her against him again.

"Ya gettin' divorced," he said. He leaned in, inhaling the smell of her hair. It was the same fruity shampoo and the faint smell of sausage.

"Daryl, technically I'm cheating, I don't know how I feel about that," Carol said.

"Ya ain't cheatin'," Daryl said. "We don't have ta count it 'til ya divorced."

Carol chuckled and tried to push him away. He held tight, his arms going back up around her waist.

"It doesn't work that way," Carol said.

"Sure it does," Daryl said. He pulled away a little and looked at her. He moved his hands and brought her face to his, kissing her lips. She didn't respond for a second, but then she did, her tongue diving into his mouth with the same force as he used. Daryl knew she wanted this as much as he did, but for some reason she was going to make him convince her.

Daryl broke away finally and walked over to the door, turning the lock.

"What if she comes back, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"Then she can either go back across the hall or wait. She's a big damn girl, don't need no babysitter," Daryl said. He crossed back over to where Carol was and caught the bottom of her shirt. He wanted her clothes off. He wanted to taste her again, to feel her next to him. Carol lifted her arms and let him pull the shirt over her head, dropping it on the floor.

Daryl stared at her breasts for a moment and cupped them, pushing them up in his hands. He dipped his head and sucked hard at one of her nipples and she gasped, one of her hands going to his side, her fingers digging into him. Her gasp spurred him on and he moved his mouth to the other, sucking it equally as hard. His teeth scraped against her and she cried out a little, this time bucking into him.

He didn't have any of his clothes off, and he hardly had any of hers off, and he was afraid he was going to lose himself already. He put his hand on her hip and steered her backwards toward her bedroom.

"Daryl, what about the other night?" She asked, stepping backwards as he steered her.

"What about it?" He asked, looking over her to make sure she didn't trip or run into anything.

"What about Mary Ann?" She asked. Daryl pushed her into her room and backed her up to the bed, she sat down on it when the back of it hit the back of her legs. Daryl pulled his shirt off as quickly as he could, afraid that if he took too long she could talk herself out of it. He leaned over her, kissing her again, sucking on her as they pulled apart.

"Fuck about her?" He panted. He started unbuttoning his pants, his mouth going to her neck, biting the skin there.

"She's younger than me…" Carol said. Daryl wrestled out of his pants, thankful that he hadn't worn shoes across the hall. He pushed her back, his mouth going back to suck at her nipple again. She threw her head back and he sucked harder, biting down gently.

"So? Fuck her," he said when he came up for air, panting. His fingers dug into the cotton shorts and he pulled them down with her underwear. Carol was panting now.

"Did you want to?" She asked.

Daryl looked around desperately searching for wherever she might have put the condoms that he'd bought the other night. He saw one of the boxes on her dresser and he crossed the room almost in a run for it.

"What?" He asked, distracted by the wrapper.

He rolled the condom on and crossed the room almost with the same speed as before, pushing Carol back against the mattress where she'd started to sit up a little.

"Did you want to fuck her?" Carol asked.

Daryl brought his lips back to her neck as he stepped in front of her, pulling her legs apart. He ran his hand down her center and she wrapped her legs around him as lined himself up with her. He didn't bother to respond to her, he just pushed himself into her and let himself thrust a few times with all the pent up frustration he'd been harboring since the other night.

Carol wrapped her legs around him and her arms went around his neck. She buried her face against his chest as he tried to move them both so that he wasn't in an awkward position that threatened to send him spilling to the floor. His heart was pounding and once he was he was in better position he continued his assault on her, spurred on by the way she was moaning against him, almost whimpering.

He felt a sensation that he hadn't felt before and as he thrust, he felt Carol tightening around him, over and over, pulsing and she whined against him. It drove him over the edge and he came hard, falling on top of her and panting.

Both of them were still and quiet for a moment, still together, still trying to get their breath. Daryl finally moved, removing his weight from her, but she didn't move at all. She stayed in the same position, still panting and now staring at him. Daryl ran his hand through his hair. Once his breathing slowed a little, he swallowed.

"Ain't wanted ta fuck nobody," he said.

Carol looked at him a moment longer, and then she smiled at him. She narrowed her eyes.

"I think you did…" she said. "I think you wanted to fuck _somebody_."

Daryl was a little taken aback. He wasn't sure how to respond at first, but she smiled again and she reached a hand up, pulling him down to kiss her. He lingered there a moment, letting their tongues battle together.

"Maybe so," Daryl said when they pulled apart, "but it weren't that girl."

"We've got to get up," Carol said. "I'm supposed to be washing dishes and all of Andrea's clothes are over here except the pajamas she's wearing."

Daryl didn't really want to get up. He wanted to stay there. He thought that, given a few minutes, he might want to do that again. Carol rolled from under him, though and started dressing quickly in her pajamas again. He followed suit and was pulling on his shirt when he noticed her looking around.

"Where's my shirt?" She asked.

"Kitchen," Daryl said. Carol nodded a little, quickly came to him and pressed a quick, light kiss against his lips, and then she slipped out the bedroom. Daryl followed after her and watched as she pulled her shirt on.

"Did you hear her come back? She didn't, did she?" Carol asked.

"Door's locked," Daryl said. "She's probably still over there with Merle."

Daryl felt amazing at that moment. He didn't know if this was what they were supposed to do. He wasn't sure what people normally did after they had sex, but he decided in that moment that he could be perfectly happy having sex with Carol all day long.

"Check on them, will you?" Carol asked.

Daryl sighed. He really couldn't care less what his brother and Andrea were up to, but if it made Carol happy, then he'd do it. He walked to the door and flipped the lock. Swinging the door open he was face to face with Andrea. She was leaning in the doorway and smirking. Beyond her the door to their apartment was open, but Daryl couldn't see Merle.

"Record time, my friends," Andrea said. "Jesus, Daryl, was there any foreplay at all? I know there wasn't time for cuddling. I almost had the door open when you locked it."

Daryl felt his face go red and turned to Carol. She was about five different shades of red as well, pretending to be washing a dish.

Andrea pushed past him and came into the apartment then.

"And you have the whole place smelling like sex, bravo!" She said. She crossed over to where her shit was piled up and started gathering it up. When she stood up, she looked back and forth between them and she snickered. "Both of you stop looking like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. I've known this day was coming since Daryl picked your ass up that morning going on a cross country jog. Now if you'll both excuse me, I've got to go make one man's life a mortal hell."

Andrea crossed the apartment again, her stuff bundled in her arm, and slipped around Daryl.

"Carry on, children," she announced, just before she slipped through the door. "Maybe give foreplay a chance sometime…you'd be surprised at how much better everything runs when you take time to oil the gears properly."

Daryl slammed the door, mortified, and turned to look at Carol who was almost purple in the face and still pretending to wash the same plate.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag," Carol said, after a few minutes. Even though Daryl still wanted to die from embarrassment, he couldn't help but laugh.


	23. Chapter 23

Carol sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to knot the laces on her shoes. She had just enough time to make coffee and possibly enjoy it before Shane Walsh would be downstairs waiting to pick her up. She was supposed to babysit for Michonne until lunch time and then Michonne was going to take her to Lula's to work there for the rest of the day while Michonne's husband had the girls.

Carol sat up from tying her shoes and Daryl's arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards. She flopped back onto him, almost whining without thinking about it.

She wasn't sure at all what was going on with her and Daryl. They were together all the day before in the name of letting Andrea and Merle have space to work out their differences. Andrea and Merle had, apparently, worked them out, at least however it was that they worked things out, and Carol and Daryl had kept her apartment occupied.

Daryl was insatiable. Carol had never seen anything like it, and frankly she was beginning to think her body was built to handle it. She was sore, very sore. Everything hurt and since she'd escaped for about an hour and a half to shower and get ready, she realized the feeling of "hurts so good" that she thought she could apply to everything no longer seemed to work. She wasn't even sure at this point that she'd be able to hide it from Michonne that she'd spent the last day and part of the night having sex with Daryl. She wondered to herself how many of the condoms were even left.

Daryl craned around and kissed her neck awkwardly where he'd pulled her against him. She felt him tugging at the button on her capri pants.

"Please," she said. "I've got to go…you've got to get ready. Don't you have to work today?"

She didn't want to turn him down. For some reason she felt like turning him down made her some kind of evil dragon person, but she didn't want to have sex with him again right now either.

"I gotta work," Daryl said, "but I reckon we got a few minutes."

"No!" She said, pulling herself up and causing him to hiss a little at the fact that his fingers had gotten caught at a bad angle in the waistband of her pants. "I don't have a few minutes," she said, "I've got to get ready to go. You need to get up too."

She got up before he could get his hands on her and went into the kitchen, flipping on the coffee pot and praying that he didn't come up behind her. She liked him, she really did, but she just needed a little break and she wasn't quite sure how to tell him. She'd never been in this position before either.

When Daryl came through the apartment, his shorts on, but his shirt off, his hair standing up on end, Carol watched him like he was a predator until he finally sat at the table, staring at her.

"Why ya gotta go ta work so damn early?" Daryl asked, yawning and scratching at his chest a little.

"Shane picks me up before his rounds start, and I have to be there before Michonne leaves. She has to be at work at a normal hour too, you know?" Carol responded. She quickly poured two cups of coffee and took Daryl one. He grabbed her hand after she put the cup down and kissed her fingers. She pulled her hand away.

"Shane Walsh?" Daryl asked. Carol saw the look that she now knew to be his potential grumpy face come across him. The last time she'd seen that was last night when she'd insisted that they actually attempt to make it through the thirty minute television show they were supposed to be watching instead of ending up tangled up on the couch again.

"Yes," she said, standing at the counter and drinking her coffee to keep the maximum distance between them.

"Why ya ridin' with him?" Daryl asked. "I could drive ya to her damn house. It's fuckin' six in the damn mornin', who the hell is really gonna give a flyin' fuck who ya ridin' with?"

Carol chuckled a little, almost choking on her coffee.

"Apparently you do," she said. "Daryl, he's driving me to work, that's it. What you and I have been doing, it's wrong. I'm a married woman. I'm not supposed to spend my free time sleeping with someone. Ed could use it against me, and until I make enough money to afford a car, I don't have much other choice."

"An' ya sayin' there ain't nothin' goin' on when he takes ya on these little rides?" Daryl asked. Carol smiled at him. Jealousy was cute on Daryl.

"Nothing's going on," Carol said. "Right now there's absolutely no way anything would ever go on."

"Why ya say it like that?" Daryl asked.

"Because, Daryl," Carol said, her voice pleading with him not misunderstand her, "right this minute I feel like the only thing I want to do is sit on a block of ice. OK? I would punch Shane Walsh in the face right now if he even looked at me like he wanted to touch me."

Daryl chuckled a little.

"Did I do that?" Daryl asked. Carol snickered at the look on his face and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yeah, you did," she said.

"Sorry," Daryl said. He picked up his coffee cup and took a swallow from it, the grin still trying to sneak out. Carol rolled her eyes at him. He chuckled after a minute. "Can I pick ya up somethin' from the drug store on my way home from work?"

Carol narrowed her eyes at him again, trying not to smile. If she smiled, he won this round.

"No, Daryl, you can't pick me up something from the drug store. I don't think they make cream for this, and I don't think you'd want to buy it if they did," she said.

He chuckled again.

"Hell yeah I'd buy it," Daryl said. Carol fought laughing at him and tried to finish her coffee. "So I get off at six today…ya gonna feel better by then?"

Carol rolled her eyes and groaned. She was almost thankful when there was a knock at the door. She put her cup in the sink and started toward the door, opening it slightly and peeking out. She expected Shane to be there, telling her that he was ready to go, but it was Andrea.

"Does Daryl want pancakes?" Andrea asked through the crack. Carol backed up and pulled the door open. Andrea stuck her head in. "Daryl, pancakes?"

"In a little bit," Daryl said from the table.

"I'm not a short order chef," Andrea said. "Pancakes now or no pancakes."

Daryl grumbled and got up, leaving his mug on the table.

"I'm comin', damn it," he said. He started toward the door.

"Jesus it smells like wild animal in here," Andrea said, wrinkling her nose and backing out of the apartment. Daryl made his way to the door and stood staring at Carol. She finally leaned in to kiss him and then pulled the door open the rest of the way so that he could slip out.

"Want me ta come an' just happen ta walk ya home from Lula's?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head.

"After the run in with Ed the other day, I think it's better if I just let Jacqui walk me home like we planned," Carol said.

"Don't let her in the apartment," Andrea called, "not unless you open a window and air that place out."

Merle appeared in the doorway of the apartment across the hall, from which Andrea was now yelling, and winked at Carol.

"Nice ta see y'all come up fer air, lil' bit," Merle said.

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl said, pushing Merle out of his way and disappearing into the apartment.

"What?" Merle drawled. "I'm proud…ya got that Dixon stamina. Mighta took ya a while ta get on the horse, but I'd say ya 'bout near run tha damn thing ta death."

Carol didn't hear any more of what was happening across the hall. On that note she slammed the door to her apartment and went to finding everything she needed to toss in her purse before Shane Walsh expected her to be ready.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11

Daryl had to admit that he felt lighter than he'd ever felt going to work that day. Even Merle's harassment hadn't brought him down. He drove down the back roads, toward Hershel Greene's farm, with the window down and smoked a cigarette, smiling to himself.

Daryl didn't know anything about women and he didn't know anything about how he was supposed to feel about them. The only woman he could ever remember having any feelings for had been his mother, and he couldn't compare what he felt for Carol to that in the slightest.

Daryl liked everything about her. He liked the way she smiled and the way she laughed. He liked the way she smelled and the way she was so ticklish that she almost squirmed away from him when he raked his fingertips over her sides. He even loved the way she tasted, and he finally understood what Merle meant when he went on about the way women tasted…except Daryl didn't think he wanted to try any other flavors. He was pretty satisfied with Carol's.

Daryl didn't know much of nothing about divorces. He knew that married people sometimes got them and then they didn't have anything else to do with each other, but that was the extent of it. He wanted Carol to hurry up and be divorced from Ed. The more time he spent with Carol, the more he hated the fat bastard for every single time he'd ever laid a finger on her, whether it was abusive or not. Daryl simply didn't like the idea that anyone had ever touched her; least of all that they had touched in a way that she hadn't wanted.

The only thing that bothered him now was the fact that she wasn't divorced, and since she wasn't divorced, he wasn't supposed to let anyone know how much he liked her. He didn't really understand why it was so bad that they knew, but she'd stressed it to him more than once that it needed to be a secret. He couldn't wait for her to be divorced so he could make it not a secret. Then he could put his hand around her waist when he wanted to like Merle did Andrea, and he could kiss her at the Water Ho and show all those drunk assholes that she would take their tips but she wasn't looking for nobody to put their hands on her like they sometimes liked to do. He wouldn't have to know she was riding around in Shane Walsh's car anymore either. He could drive her to work himself, even if it meant they had to leave early, and people could look all they wanted. All he had to wait for was that stupid divorce.

Daryl pulled his truck into Hershel's drive and parked it under the tree where he normally parked. He got out of the truck and slammed the door shut, heading toward the house to see if Hershel was in there or if Miss Jo could direct him to where he might find him.

Hershel met him, coming out the door, the screen slapping closed behind him, before he could ever mount the steps.

"Good morning, Daryl," Hershel said. "Did you eat yet? Jo's got eggs and ham if you're hungry."

"No sir," Daryl said. "I ate pancakes before I come."

"You eat a lot of pancakes, son," Hershel said with a smile.

"I reckon that's all my brother's woman knows how ta make," Daryl said. Hershel smiled at him and chuckled a little. He came down the steps and walked up to Daryl, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"One of these days, son, you'll find yourself your own woman, and then she can make your pancakes," Hershel said.

Daryl couldn't help but think to himself that he hoped that soon enough it would be Carol making him pancakes every day and he'd be able to tell Hershel about it. Maybe she'd make ham and eggs too, and then they could compare. She could pack him sandwiches for lunch and then Miss Jo wouldn't feel like she always had to feed him lunch because there wasn't anybody running him food to eat like Andrea was always doing for Merle.

"I reckon I will," Daryl said.

"You seem to be in good spirits, son. Good day off?" Hershel asked as they walked across the rolling grass of the farm.

"Right good," Daryl said. "Can't complain."

"Sometimes a good rest is all we need," Hershel said. "It gets everything running well."

Daryl nodded in agreement, though he hadn't done much resting on his day off. He couldn't say, though, what had kept him occupied, so he decided a good rest was a good excuse.

Hershel escorted Daryl to the barn and told him what he needed to be done. He told Daryl that he was welcome to take a short day if he wanted because he really didn't have anything else for him to do beyond move some bags of feed and some hay bales and make sure the cattle were fed and watered. Daryl reasoned that he could do that in a few hours.

Hershel went off to do whatever it was that he needed to do, and Daryl set to work.

Daryl worked with enthusiasm. It wasn't that he had any real love for hauling heavy feed bags or prickly bales of hay that made him itch and stuck to his sweaty body, but he had a lot on his mind and that kept him from focusing on the less pleasant aspects of what he had to do. He fed and watered the cattle, ignoring the fact that the filthy animals would occasionally get too close for comfort and try to crush his feet.

As the day wore on, he reasoned that he might even finish early enough to eat a late lunch at Lula's, and if he was lucky Carol could serve him. He couldn't let on that he liked her like he did, but at least he could see her, and she could smile at him from time to time while he ate.

Daryl got so wrapped up in his thoughts, in fact, that he surprised himself when he went back into the barn and realized that there wasn't anything else for him to haul. He slipped out of the barn, mopping at his face with his shirt for a moment, and made his way around back in search of Hershel.

On the way there, he noticed an old Chevrolet parked up under a tree. He crossed over to the rusty old truck and walked around it a couple of times. There were a few spots in the back where the bed was rusting through, and one of the tires was so flat it was sad, but the truck didn't look to be too bad off. Daryl looked around, but he didn't see Hershel or any of the others. He pulled the door open to the old truck and jumped back when he looked inside. Then he almost laughed at himself. There was a humongous snake skin curled up on the seat of the truck, but whatever snake had left it there appeared to be long gone.

Daryl walked around, continuing his inspection of the obviously abandoned vehicle. He popped the hood of the truck and gazed in. It clearly needed work, but he wondered if it would run, and he wondered exactly how much work the old thing did need.

Daryl almost jumped out of his skin when Hershel quietly approached him and spoke.

"She was a good ole thing, back in her day," Hershel said.

Daryl jumped and spun around, feeling guilty, though he hadn't actually done anything wrong.

"I finished doin' all ya asked me to," he said suddenly, hoping Hershel didn't think he was neglecting his work. The man smiled, nodding a little.

"I saw," Hershel said. "You did a good job. You're a good worker, Daryl."

Daryl nodded and muttered his thanks. He wasn't used to praise and it made him uncomfortable.

"What happened ta the truck?" He asked.

Hershel mopped at the back of his kneck for a moment with a red plaid handkerchief and Daryl swatted some gnats that were after his own sweat.

"She had a couple of problems," Hershel said. "Parked her when I got a new farm truck. She's been here ever since."

Daryl looked at the truck.

"How much would it set ya back?" Daryl asked, leaning his hand on the front fender.

"This old thing, son?" Hershel asked. He swiped at his neck again and fanned at some gnats.

Daryl nodded, chewing at his lower lip.

"Son, this truck's been here so long, I don't imagine it'll run," Hershel said.

"How much?" Daryl asked. "Three hundred bucks?"

Hershel shook his head a little.

"I couldn't take your money, Daryl. I'd almost give it to you if you could get it out of here," Hershel said. "I was going to sell it for scrap metal eventually."

Daryl looked at the old truck again.

"Would ya care if I stayed ta work on it here after I get off in the evenin's?" Daryl asked. "I'll give ya three hundred bucks for it. Ya ain't likely ta get that much for scrap metal."

Hershel shook his head and chuckled a little.

"Son, I don't know why you want this old truck, but if you can get her running, she's yours," Hershel said. "You don't have to pay me for it. Just consider it a bonus for being a good worker if it means that much to you."

Daryl grinned at him and stuck his hand out to shake on it. Hershel smiled and shook his hand.

"I'm goin' ta get started on it now," Daryl said, "while I got some daylight left." He turned and started toward his truck to get his tools with Hershel close behind him.

"What do you want that old pile of bolts for anyway, son?" Hershel asked.

"It's a good truck," Daryl said. "Just needs a little care, that's all."

"Son, that truck's old and it's had a hard life. That was the first farm truck I ever had," Hershel said, clearly amused with Daryl's yearning for the vehicle.

Daryl shook his head.

"Don't matter," he said. "Hard life just gives it character. I'll get it runnin', don't'cha worry 'bout that."

Hershel nodded at Daryl and clapped him on the shoulder as he reached over to fish his toolbox out of the back of the truck.

"Knock yourself out," Hershel said. "It's good to see someone with some enthusiasm about an old thing like that. Shows you're not one to have your head turned too easily."

Daryl nodded at him, not really sure what Hershel meant. He'd get the truck running though. Daryl didn't believe there was anything with an engine that he couldn't eventually get to run. It might need a few parts here or there, but that old truck still had a few miles left in it, and he was determined to make them count.


	24. Chapter 24

Michonne could have called him. In fact, that's what she normally would have done. It would have made more sense than driving all the way out to the development that where the houses were springing up out of the ground almost magically.

She pretended that there were a lot of reasons that she made the drive. She made the drive because she was interested in seeing the progress of the small neighborhood. She was fascinated by the fact that a well-trained, well organized construction crew could make buildings almost appear overnight where there was nothing but the red clay before.

She pretended it was because she was bored in her office. There wasn't that much to do and she could only spend so much time going over and over the same cases again before she'd all but memorized each and every detail. And there were even fewer of those to flip through now that Merle Dixon wasn't her problem. So instead of spending the extra time in her office that she would have spent rereading Merle Dixon's many life accomplishments, Michonne could spend that time on a short drive out to a small housing development.

She'd even reasoned that going home wouldn't make much sense. There was no one there and her husband had her girls until eight tonight. He was taking them, with her ex mother in law, to see some kind of show. Michonne thought it was silly. Anjelica might be mildly interested in about the first ten minutes of some performance, but after that she would have had her fill. And Celine? Celine had few interests that lasted long enough for her to realize she was bored with them. Her mother in law did things like that, though, and Michonne tried to ignore it. The woman was old and she was the only grandmother that the girls would know, and so she was letting him keep the girls longer than he normally would have.

Michonne also planned later to stop by Lula's as Carol's shift was ending and buy her dinner. She hoped that Carol might feel like keeping her company for a little while. So she had used the time that still had to pass as yet another excuse to make the drive over the phone call.

They were all good reasons, after all. They were all good, solid reasons that she should drive out to the housing development and tell Tyreese Scott in person that Ed Peletier had changed his mind about his case against Merle. It seemed that Ed had become aware, somehow, that his manhood might be in question if he continued to have fights with new-to-town arrivals like the Dixons when they'd essentially caused no one else any harm.

Merle Dixon was a man who liked his substances and, as such, he had found his way on the wrong side of the law more than once. He was obviously a man that was too proud to stand down if challenged, as well. Apparently, he was also a man that felt a certain respect for women. Michonne imagined, from meeting him, that the respect wasn't one that led him to speak to them with any sort of gentility, but it was one that kept him from thinking the actions of a man like Ed Peletier should go unanswered for.

His brother, who Michonne knew relatively less about, apparently shared the same feelings on the subject of men like Ed Peletier. The boy had brawled, flat out, in the streets of Sweet Junction with the man and apparently hadn't hung his head at all when he informed Rick Grimes of what he had done, why he had done it, and that he was willing to hold down any bench in the Sweet Junction jail for however long they deemed necessary.

Ed Peletier didn't know how to handle men like that. The only kind of men that Ed Peletier knew how to handle were men like himself. Men who would turn a blind eye to his actions because women deserved whatever treatment they got from men who beat their own insecurities out on the faces of women who couldn't stop them.

And somehow, someone had drummed it into Ed's head that if he were to press charges against the Dixons it would hurt him more than it would help him. It would draw attention, not so much to the fact that he was wrongly attacked by men that didn't know that the law clearly stated that you couldn't beat a man in public because of your feelings about his actions, but more to the fact that their convictions against him confirmed him for what he was. So the charges were dropped.

Michonne stopped her car in the same driveway that she'd stopped it in before. She hadn't called ahead this time, so she suspected that Tyreese Scott would not expect to see her wandering around the job site.

She got out of the car and looked around, treading carefully so as to not end up sprawled on the ground thanks to the societal belief that women should walk around on shoes with stilts attached to them just to prove that they were women.

She found Merle Dixon quickly and approached him, calling out to get his attention over the noise of the workers. Merle looked up, hearing his name, and observed her for a minute, mopping at his head with a rag. Finally, he walked toward her, his face more of curiosity than anything else.

"Wee-eell, sweetcheeks, ya a long way from tha jail today," Merle drawled. "What can ole Merle do fer ya?" He approached her, and then gestured toward a large orange water cooler, obviously indicating that he wished to step over there. Michonne followed his gesture and walked with him, watching as he filled a cup with water from the cooler and drank the contents in one long gulp.

"I came to tell you that I won't be representing you…at least not right now. Ed Peletier has decided not to press charges against you for assault and battery," Michonne said. She watched Merle as he refilled the cup and drank the contents of the second one much in the same manner as he had the first. When he was done, he nodded a little and smiled at her.

"Well glory be," he said. "Reckon that means I ain't gon' get ta spend no more time in that fine 'stablishment ya town's built for people like me. Unless I see ole Ed again, that is."

"Mr. Dixon," Michonne said, "I'd advise you not to start anymore trouble with Ed Peletier. Your record isn't exactly clean and he may not have the same change of heart the next time that he had this time."

"I ain't gon' say I'll seek him out," Merle said, "but I ain't gon' turn away from him. Not if I see him sniffin' 'round my place. Ya see, he done put his hands on another woman that he weren't married to, an' the way I see it is I owe him for that'n."

"You're referring to Andrea?" Michonne asked. She'd heard about the altercation. Everyone in Sweet Junction had heard about it. Everyone in Sweet Junction also knew that Merle and Andrea were together, and Michonne could imagine that the man, given his feelings toward Ed, might also be one of those charming men that was fiercely protective of anything that he deemed to be his.

Merle didn't respond to her, he just stared at her and mopped the back of his neck again, setting his jaw.

"Mr. Dixon, I know about that incident, and Ed was reprimanded for it. If you retaliate for it, though, it will be you that pays the price for it," Michonne said. She was starting to get a little annoyed. She really wouldn't care, in a parallel universe, if they were let Ed and Merle duke it out until death…very likely Ed's, but legally she couldn't let Merle believe that this was a good move for him. She had no real affections for the rugged redneck, but she didn't want to see anyone do time over a man like Ed Peletier.

Merle didn't respond. He refilled his cup, drank down the contents one last time and nodded slightly at her.

"I'd love ta chat with a princess like yaself for a while longer," Merle said finally, "but I got me a job ta do an' I don't reckon the boss man's payin' me ta flap my jaws. If'n ya ain't got nothin' else ta tell me then I'm gonna get back ta that cement 'fore it gets hard."

Michonne realized that Merle wasn't going to continue the conversation with her at this time, and she honestly didn't know if she had the patience to continue it with him. She bid him a good day and watched as he walked back to where he was before, leaving her by the bright orange water cooler.

"Is everything alright?" She heard a voice behind her say. She turned around and Tyreese was standing there, sweaty and dirty, but every bit as impressive as she remembered him, and she remembered him often.

"Fine," she said, realizing the word didn't come out as fluidly as she had hoped. "I came to talk to Merle Dixon, and to speak with you."

Tyreese wrinkled his brow a bit in question.

"Did you want to talk here or would you like to step into one of the houses?" He asked.

Michonne really wanted to talk to the man somewhere besides the dirty construction site. She'd like to talk to him somewhere where she could sit down and not struggle to stand on uneven ground. She wondered, for a brief moment, what he looked like when he hadn't spent his entire day soaked in sweat and enveloped in the dust that seemed to be everywhere this time of year, especially with the lack of rain. That wasn't going to happen, though, and realistically she had very little to tell him. Forcing him to walk to one of the houses just to say that she didn't need his testimony anymore would borderline on insanity.

"It's fine here," Michonne said. Tyreese smiled at her and reached around her to get another cup and fill it from the same cooler.

"Thirsty?" He asked. Michonne shook her head. She imagined the only reason that the men were drinking the water was purely for hydration. She didn't imagine anything in this heat retained even a hint of coolness.

"Ed Peletier dropped the charges against Merle," Michonne said. "I came to tell him that, and I came to tell you that, although I appreciate your willingness, as of right now we won't need you to testify as a character witness on Merle's behalf."

Tyreese drank the water and nodded his head a little.

"I'm glad he dropped the charges," Tyreese said. "It seems this Ed fellow is not well liked in Sweet Junction."

Michonne cocked her head to the side. Tyreese was a self-proclaimed new comer to the town and she couldn't imagine how he would know too much about Ed.

Tyreese chuckled a little, apparently at her expression, and she tried to wipe her face clean of the curiosity that he'd piqued.

"I was in town the other day," Tyreese said. "I took Sasha to get some lunch and when we left we saw two men fighting. Come to find out, at least what I heard from some of the bystanders, it was this Ed fellow fighting with a young man. I helped the young man, but I didn't really know what was going on. Looked like the boy had the intention of killing the man, though."

Michonne nodded slowly.

"Daryl Dixon," she said with a sigh.

Tyreese raised his eyebrow a little.

"Any relation to Merle or is Dixon a popular last name in Sweet Junction?" Tyreese asked.

Michonne shook her head.

"No, they're brothers," she said.

"Brothers with the same vendetta," Tyreese said. "This place really is like a movie town."

Michonne snickered at the thought.

"It's as real as any other place, I suppose," Michonne said. "Ed's…well…he has a reputation. He has a fancy for mistreating his wife. It would appear that Dixons don't appreciate that."

Tyreese nodded.

"Not hard to understand why, is it?" He asked. Michonne shook her head.

"I guess the Dixons just prefer the old timey way of dealing with things, you know? Fists speak louder than court orders," Michonne said with a sigh.

Tyreese smiled again.

"Well, at the risk of offending such a lovely upholder of the law, sometimes they do," Tyreese said.

Michonne felt heat rise in her face at the thought that the man in front of her, probably without thinking about it, had called her lovely. She tried to hide it, though, and put it out of her mind. He'd mentioned someone named Sasha, and Michonne could imagine that she was likely the woman that shared his little dollhouse and mothered Timmy, his possibly fictional child.

"Well," she said, trying to get control of herself, "I suppose I need to be going now. I've got…" she paused, realizing she really didn't have anything to do. What was she going to do? She was going to sit in Lula's and pretend to be going over documents until Carol got off work. "I've got to meet someone," she finished.

Tyreese nodded at her.

"It was nice to see you again," Tyreese said. "Maybe one of these days we'll run into each other when it doesn't have to do with Merle Dixon or Ed Peletier."

Michonne smiled in spite of herself.

"Maybe we will," she said. "It's a small world."

She took her leave of Tyreese and headed toward her car, a little ashamed at the fluttery feeling she felt in her stomach over the man. She was too old to be thinking this way, and too mature for such girlish antics.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 111

Carol had not expected Michonne to meet her as her shift was ending, but Michonne had camped out in one of the booths at Lula's and she stayed there until Carol had untied her apron, gathered up her tips, and joined her, bringing their drinks when she came. She'd at least save Donna a couple of trips waiting on them.

They'd eaten dinner and Carol had listened as Michonne unloaded on her all the details of her day. Apparently Ed had dropped charges against Merle, Michonne had seen her Adonis again, and Michonne had also spoken to Ed's lawyer to see about speeding up the divorce since now they had even more evidence against Ed.

Carol could barely listen to her, though. She was distracted by the fact that she'd agreed, though she wasn't entirely sure how, to spend the night with Michonne. On the one hand, she was grateful for the well needed break from Daryl. She would have probably cried if he'd come to the apartment begging for her to let him in so that he could continue what they'd been doing. On the other hand, though, she realized that if she just disappeared without telling him so much as where she was going for the night, he might very well misinterpret her absence.

She insisted, then, that when they left the restaurant they'd pass back by her apartment long enough for her to gather a few things. When they got there, Michonne stood in the hall waiting while Carol unlocked the door. She hadn't examined the apartment, and she hoped that it wasn't too obvious what she'd spent her day off doing. She let Michonne in and the woman waited near the door for her while she went around and quickly threw some things into a plastic grocery bag that she'd need for an overnight stay.

When they left, Carol crossed the hall and knocked on the door to the Dixon's apartment. Andrea opened the door and stood there a moment, staring at Carol.

"I'm going to spend the night at Michonne's house," Carol said. "Could you tell Merle or DARYL that I'm there and if they could keep an eye on things, that would be nice?"

Andrea nodded at her slowly, staring at her like she had sprouted antenna. Carol sighed and hoped that Andrea could muddle through enough to realize that she wanted her to give the message to Daryl that she was fine, simply gone for the night with a friend…a _girl_ friend…and that he wouldn't jump to any conclusions about her.

"Thank you," Carol said. "Just please let Merle and DARYL know that, OK?"

Andrea nodded again, her facial expression unchanging. Carol took her plastic bag, then, and followed Michonne to the car. She didn't speak much on the ride to the house, wondering whether or not Andrea had caught on to her, hopefully, subtle message.

When they got to Michonne's house, Carol followed Michonne inside and dropped the plastic bag of her belongings by the door. Michonne wandered through the house ahead of her, unbuttoning her jacket, her heels in her hand where she'd shucked them off immediately upon passing through the door.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" Michonne called from her bedroom.

"Sure," Carol called. "Where are the girls?"

"Still with Dean," Michonne called back. "He and his mother have taken the girls to some kind of show." Michonne reappeared then, in her bathrobe. "It's supposed to be for little kids, so I imagine his girlfriend will be thoroughly entertained."

Carol giggled and followed Michonne into the kitchen where she watched her digging through her drawers in search, presumably, of the corkscrew.

"So you got to see your Adonis today," Carol said, "was he everything you remembered?"

"And more," Michonne said, working the cork out of the bottle now. "He's married though, or at least involved. He saw you the day that Daryl beat the shit out of Ed. Apparently he helped Daryl or something?"

Carol thought back. She vaguely remembered someone breaking up the fight, but she'd been too wrapped up in the moment to pay much attention. Now that she knew it was Michonne's Adonis, she wished she'd focused a little more.

"I don't remember," Carol said, apologetically. "How do you know he's married?"

"He took some woman to lunch that day, that's when he saw you," Michonne said. She shrugged a little and poured two glasses of wine, passing one to Carol. "It's not like it matters anyway. I only need him for fantasies in the long run. He'd probably end up being more trouble than he's worth in the flesh."

Carol blushed.

"Are you saying you fantasize about him?" Carol asked. She felt her cheeks burn and realized that Michonne was the only girlfriend she'd ever had that she ended up talking about things like this with. Michonne didn't seem embarrassed about anything, though, and Carol had to admit that though it made her blush, she liked talking about things with Michonne.

Michonne smiled at her. She took a sip of wine.

"Surely you should know that just because you're not doing it with someone else doesn't mean that you give it up completely?" Michonne said, raising her eyebrow at Carol and smiling when Carol blushed a little more.

Carol didn't respond.

"So, you're apparently not going to tell me on your own," Michonne said, "so I'm going to have to come out and ask it. Who's put that sway in your step?"

Carol almost spat out the wine she had in her mouth.

"Michonne!" She said, coughing. Michonne laughed at her and leaned against the counter.

"Come on, Carol. You're walking like you're a full time employee of the Pony Express right now. Who is it?" Michonne asked.

Carol had hoped it wasn't so obvious. She had been doing her best to disguise her discomfort. She knew, though, that she wasn't escaping Michonne's stare and Michonne had her as a captive audience now.

"Daryl," Carol said quietly. Michonne raised her eyebrows, smirking.

"Carol Ann!" She said. "You're doing the nasty with the Dixon boy? And here I was thinking you were little miss innocent."

Carol leaned on the other side of the counter and buried her face in her hands.

"Is it that obvious? Really?" Carol asked through her hands.

"Honey, the only way it wouldn't be obvious would be if you could still tie your horse up outside the saloon. I almost told you to leave your spurs at the door." Michonne teased.

"Oh my God!" Carol moaned. "I've been trying to hide it, but I'm dying."

"That well-endowed?" Michonne asked. "Or just that many hours making up for lost time?"

Carol looked at her now, and immediately wished she could erase the image of Michonne's face from her mind.

"Don't play shy now," Michonne urged. She took another sip of wine. "Spill the details."

"We're not supposed to talk about this," Carol said.

"Says who?" Michonne asked. "Do you see your grandmother here?"

Carol sighed.

"Well…he's a lot bigger than Ed," Carol said.

Michonne nodded, smiling.

"I figured Ed was about like this," Michonne said, holding her pinky up. Carol laughed at her.

"You're too nice," Carol said. Michonne chuckled. "But Daryl was a virgin, and let's just say that he's trying to make up for all the times he didn't do anything before. I thought it would go on like that for just a little while and then he'd get tired, but he's like the Energizer Bunny."

"Well is it at least good?" Michonne asked.

"Sometimes," Carol admitted. "But the last few times it was more of me trying to go to my happy place."

Michonne laughed again and shook her head. She refilled her wine glass and traced her finger around the top of the glass.

"If you had told me a few years ago that Carol Ann McAlister would be in my kitchen confessing to me that her hoo ha was sore, I'd never have believed," Michonne said.

Carol nearly choked on her wine again. Her eyes were watering now simply from trying to hold back her laughter.

"I'm officially mortified," Carol said.

Michonne smiled.

"Don't be that way," she said. "I'm just teasing you. Just tell him that you need a couple of days to recover. You'll be back before you know it."

"So you don't think I'm a horrible person for doing this? I mean I am cheating on Ed," Carol said.

Michonne shook her head.

"You're not a horrible person, and I would have cheated on Ed a long time ago. Just make sure you keep it under the covers for a while. We're going to speed this divorce up, but we don't want Ed having any ammunition. In the meantime, I've got an ice pack in the freezer you can take to bed with you later," Michonne said. "Might cool things down a bit."

"Are you serious?" Carol asked. "An ice pack?"

Michonne nodded. She picked up her wine glass and started toward the living room.

"Those girls didn't come out of my pocket," she called.

Carol laughed and took her own wine glass, following Michonne to the living room to wait for Dean to get back with the girls in question.


	25. Chapter 25

"What the hell am I s'posed ta do with this?" Daryl asked, turning the key over in his palm.

"Keep it," Carol said. "You never know, you might need to get in here…check on things. You don't have a phone in your apartment either, so there's that…"

Daryl looked sorely disappointed in the key. Carol had told him she had something for him, and she didn't really know what it was that he expected. Now he was standing in her kitchen, leaning against her counter turning the key over and over in his hand and looking like a kid whose balloon had been popped.

"If you don't want it," Carol said, "then you don't have to keep it, Daryl."

Daryl slipped the key into his pocket.

"Ya was gone all night," he said.

Carol was busy, at the moment, straightening up some of the mess that remained from the one day that they'd spent doing nothing more than christening every surface in her apartment. She hated to admit that she was more than a little embarrassed, and also a little disgusted, at how many used condoms she'd found in places that they simply didn't need to be. She picked another one up between her thumb and forefinger that she found between the couch cushions and put it in the plastic bag she was carrying around.

"I was at Michonne's, and I told Andrea where I was going to be," Carol said.

"Yeah she said some shit about us lookin' in over here," Daryl said. "Why ya gotta spend the night at that woman's house no way? I was comin' ta see ya an' then ya weren't even here."

Carol smiled at him.

"We're friends, and sometimes I spend the night over there. It's some of the only time she and I get to hang out. Her girls are small, and she can't exactly drive me home after they've gone to bed," Carol said.

"Ya like them kids a' hers, don't'cha?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded, standing up and sliding the couch cushion back into place. She started rearranging the sheet she used to cover the old thing.

"I do. I love kids," she said. "Do you like kids?"

Daryl scoffed.

"Snotty, leaky, loud little bastards," Daryl said. "I ain't got no use for 'em."

Carol didn't know why she felt sorry to hear that, but part of her wasn't surprised. She could only hope that Andrea had some kind of extra strength birth control because she could only imagine the disaster a child would be across the hall. Between the three of them the child would end up lucky to survive two days.

"I'm sorry to hear that you feel that way," Carol said. "Michonne's girls are precious."

"I reckon that's good for her, then," Daryl said. He was quiet for a minute. "Ya gonna keep cleanin' all damn night?"

"If I don't clean this place will look like a pig sty," Carol said.

"Ya mean it'll look like our place," Daryl said.

Carol didn't respond. It was kind of what she was thinking, but she wasn't going to say anything. She could understand, perhaps, Merle and Daryl living in the filth they called an apartment, but she was surprised that Andrea hadn't cleaned any of it. The only thing that she could contribute it to was the fact that she knew Andrea didn't consider the place her home. She considered it a place that she was staying temporarily, and therefore she was under no obligation, and really had no right, to change anything about it.

"Can't ya do more cleanin' later? Ya 'bout cleaned every damn thing in here," Daryl said.

Carol snickered.

"Daryl, you're whining," she said. "What's your real problem? I've hardly done anything but collect trash. That's hardly a deep clean."

Daryl walked toward her then, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling him to her. His lips met hers and she parted her lips enough to let his tongue come into her mouth. He searched her mouth and she hung back against his arm, the trash bag still in her hand, not sure if she wanted to spur him on any or not.

"What's wrong with ya?" Daryl asked, pulling back from the kiss. His eyebrows were knitted together now.

Carol sighed. She wasn't really sure what was going on right this minute, and she wasn't sure how she wanted to put her thoughts into words, or even if she should do it at all.

"Daryl," she started, sitting on the arm of the couch, "what is this? I mean what's going on between you and me?"

Daryl looked at her like he was confused.

"What'cha mean? We was kissin'," he said.

"I know that," Carol said, "but I mean what else is it? What does it mean to you?"

"What'cha want it ta mean?" Daryl asked.

Carol shifted on the sofa arm. She really didn't know what she wanted it to mean. She was just going through this divorce with Ed. She didn't feel like she wanted to move into something serious, but on the other hand she didn't consider herself the kind of woman who just had sex with a man that she barely knew for nothing more than the sake of having sex. Now that she'd been away from Daryl for the night, she wasn't really sure what had happened between them. She wasn't even positive how they'd ended up sleeping together, and she surely wasn't positive how they'd ended up spending as much time as they had since then having sex. In fact, she was almost certain that she'd had sex more times with Daryl Dixon than she had in all of her married life with Ed.

"I don't know, Daryl. I don't want you to tell me what it means to me, I want you to tell me what it means to you," Carol said.

Daryl looked confused or hurt or something. Carol wasn't exactly sure what emotion it was washing across his face. Maybe he had no more answers than she did.

"I don't know what'cha want me ta say," Daryl said. "I don't know what the right answer is."

Carol smiled at him.

"There isn't a right answer, Daryl, but the fact that you say that, I think, let's me know what your answer is," Carol said.

To Daryl this was sex, and that was it. He had found something in Carol that for however briefly had captivated his attention. She'd indulged him and given him some sexual experience that he lacked before, and for that he would possibly follow her around for a bit, but there wasn't anything else to it.

Carol felt strange. She almost felt like her heart sunk at the thought, but she was being ridiculous. Daryl didn't owe her anything in the way of feelings and she couldn't honestly say that she felt anything for him. She had too much going on right now to feel too much for him. She had to worry about Ed. She had to worry about the divorce. And maybe it would be insanity to be searching for anything. Didn't they always say that the best thing about getting divorced was being on your own? Playing the field? Did she really want to move from being married to Ed to be tied to Daryl Dixon?

"I don't like the way ya said that," Daryl said, "an' I don't much like the look ya got on ya face right now."

Carol hadn't realized she was making any expression at all. She was trying to hold it back until she had some answers for herself, but maybe her expression was answering her questions for her.

"I just think," she said, "that maybe we're rushing things a bit too much." Daryl looked at her with a strange expression. "Maybe we got swept up in something, Daryl. You were looking for something…someone to be with…and you found that. Maybe I was looking for something too. Maybe we just fell together for a little while but that's all it was."

Daryl narrowed his eyebrows at her, but didn't say anything.

"I'm not even divorced yet," Carol said. "I spent so many years under Ed's thumb and I finally got free from him…I don't even know if I'm meant for a relationship. And you? Daryl do you think you're looking for a relationship? I mean do you even know what you're looking for?"

She almost felt like she wanted to cry, and she had no idea why. She'd lied in bed the night before and tried to figure everything out. She'd tried to work out what she was feeling, if she was feeling anything at all, and she couldn't seem to pull any answers out for herself. She liked Daryl, she really did, but she didn't know anything about herself. She felt like she'd only just met herself for the first time in a long time and there was someone in her mirror that she hardly even knew…and then on top of that there was Daryl.

She knew she didn't want to be what Andrea was to Merle. She didn't want to have a relationship with a man where they both denied that they even had a relationship. That was no way to live. If it worked for them then that was wonderful, but she didn't want that.

In fact, it seemed that right now the only thing she could articulate for herself was what she didn't want. She couldn't seem to put together the words and thoughts to even begin to say what she might actually want.

Daryl stood there, in front of her for a few minutes, and she hoped that he would say something, anything. After a minute he nodded, but still didn't speak. He turned on his heel and crossed the apartment quickly. He stopped a second, by the counter, and fished the key out of his pocket, turning it over in his hands a moment more. He slammed it on the counter and pulled the door open.

"Here's ya fuckin' key," he growled. He walked out the apartment slamming the door behind him.

For a moment, Carol stayed on the arm of the sofa, not sure what she'd done, and not sure how she felt about what she'd done.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111

Daryl stormed into the apartment and ripped his key off of the cup hook by the door. Andrea was at the stove when he came in and she quickly called to him, asking him if something was wrong.

"I'm goin' for a drive," he growled.

"Where are you going?" Andrea asked, hanging out the apartment door.

"Don't fuckin' know," Daryl said. "None ya damn business no way."

He descended the steps to the apartment building and made his way to the old truck. He got in and cranked it, checking the gas gauge. He had enough to get to wherever the fuck he was going, at least there was that.

Daryl pulled onto one of the main roads and struck off in the direction heading out of town. He rolled the window down and lit a cigarette, even though he really didn't want the thing. He didn't know what the hell was going on, or what had happened.

He knew that, despite whatever words she wanted to use, Carol was done with him. Just like that. She wanted to know what the whole damn thing had meant to him. She wanted to know if he was looking for a relationship. She had so damn many questions and he couldn't answer a single one of them.

He didn't know what it had meant. He didn't know if it had meant anything at all. He had never done this shit before. He didn't have the same practice at this that Merle had. He'd wanted to be with Carol and he'd been with her. He'd liked what they were doing together, but now he supposed he could put that out of his mind. That was over now. She didn't want to do that with him anymore and it was all because he didn't know what the hell it was all supposed to mean.

She'd asked if he was looking for a relationship. That was another question he just didn't have the ability to answer. He didn't even fucking know what a relationship was supposed to look like. He'd seen what the hell happened between is Mama and his old man, and he sure as shit didn't want that. To have that he'd have to take to drinking more than Merle did and dragging Carol around her damn apartment by her hair. He'd have to fuck her up worse than Ed ever had probably, and Daryl didn't want to do that. He never wanted to do that, and if that's what the fuck relationships came to then maybe Merle was right in trying to fight against them with every fiber of his being.

And then there was Merle. His brother was an asshole. He was a drunk and he'd spent a lot of his life strung out, moving from one battle to another. He'd held down more benches in more jail cells than anyone ever should and he'd been to court so many damn times that he knew what to do there like it was a fucking dance routine.

When it came to women, Merle had always had the sort of philosophy that it was relationships that screwed up your life. Women were good for one thing, and one thing only. Women were good for pussy. When you were done with that, the best damn thing you could do was push her out the door and go and find you another one. Once they started talking about relationships it was downhill from there.

Daryl had always thought that Merle was wrong. Merle had always believed that somehow women would trap you. That once they wanted a relationship, they'd sort of paint you into a corner and then one day you'd want the fuck out and you couldn't get out, no matter how hard you tried, because they had you trapped. Merle seemed to think that's when you went wrong…when things went bad…and then whether you wanted to do it or not, whether you ever saw it coming, that's when you turned into what the hell their old man had been. That's how the Eds of the world were born.

Daryl finished his cigarette, flicked the butt out the window, and immediately dug another out his pack, lighting it. He didn't care if he smoked two or even three packs. He'd do what he damn well pleased.

He chuckled to himself. It was fine if Carol wanted to say they didn't have no business with each other. It was just like Merle said…the whole damn thing was about pussy. Daryl supposed that if that was true, then he'd gotten what he was supposed to get out of the whole damn confusing fiasco. He'd gotten pussy. Now he could move the fuck on to the next pussy.

Maybe Merle was right. He'd always warned Daryl about the first piece. Said that in your head you could make it into something epic, something important…better than what it was…but then once you moved past it, you'd realize it was really just the same as all the rest.

The only reason Daryl felt like he couldn't breathe right now was because he still thought that damn first piece was important…well, that and the fact that he was chain smoking…but if he could move on, then he'd feel a whole lot better, and he wouldn't give a shit about Carol anymore.

Daryl pulled onto some side road and stopped the truck for a moment. He didn't know where he was exactly and he knew he needed to turn around. He'd have to head back in the same direction that he'd come from or else he was likely to end up lost.

He ran his fingers through his hair and wondered if he'd done something wrong to make Carol not want him, or was it simply that she could see, like everybody else, that Dixon men weren't good men to be with.

Some men had relationships that didn't work like Dixon relationships. Daryl had seen those things on television before, and once or twice in real life. He thought about Hershel Greene and Miss Jo. They had one of those relationships. They were old and cute and white headed. Hershel smiled a lot and tugged at his suspenders when he talked to her and Miss Jo always smelled like cinnamon and had flour on her shirt. They always smiled at each other and they rubbed noses when they kissed. That was what a good relationship looked like.

But Dixon men weren't made for those relationships. Daryl had been taught that much was true. Those relationships were for a different kind of person. He wasn't ever going to have that kind of relationship with Carol or with any woman. He'd either spend his life alone, or he'd spend it like Merle, fighting not to fall into the kind of relationships that Dixons had.

Daryl sighed and turned the truck around, lighting another cigarette and driving back in the direction from which he had come.


	26. Chapter 26

A few days passed and Carol was absolutely miserable. She tried to avoid Daryl in the hall…she tried to avoid him everywhere. She'd go out of her way to avoid him if she saw him anywhere in public. She didn't know what to say to him and the whole thing seemed awkward. He'd quit coming to the Watering Hole, and while she was working there she couldn't help but notice that Merle hardly looked in her direction and Andrea had little more to say to her than what she had to say regarding work.

She'd never meant for this to happen, and she wished she could undo the entire thing. She wished she'd never even slept with Daryl in the first place.

Carol got off work at the Watering Hole on Friday night as she normally did. Andrea was locking up and told her that she could wait for her outside. They'd walk to the apartments together. Carol stepped out into the night air and waited for Andrea, feeling bad that the woman seemed to think she needed to babysit her. Andrea wasn't being mean to her since she'd broken things off with Daryl, but she was more or less just tolerating her, and the tolerating was almost harder to take than ignoring her would be.

Carol's heart jumped a little when she saw headlights. She lived with the constant nightmare that one of these nights she was going to see headlights somewhere and it would be Ed. He'd be coming at her like he had that day in town, and she wouldn't have any way to get away from him. She couldn't even count, these days, on Daryl showing up unannounced to act like any kind of surprise knight in armor.

The headlights, though, that pulled up now were connected to the front of a police cruiser.

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself," Shane Walsh called out the window as the car rolled to a stop. Carol smiled a little, relieved to see that it was Shane and not Ed popping out of her nightmares. She walked quickly across the parking lot, coming to a stop a few feet from the door.

"Andrea's locking up," she said. "She'll be out in a minute. Rick left not half an hour ago."

Shane nodded at her a little.

"So you're off work for the night?" He asked.

Carol smiled at him again. It was a silly question. She didn't get off work from the Watering Hole until they'd pushed the final drunks out into the street. Once they were gone, there was little reason to hang around the rat trap.

"Yeah, I'm off," she said.

"Why don't you come for a ride?" Shane asked. "I'm off now and I was thinking of swinging by the Dairy-O, see if there's anything to see."

Carol wasn't sure if she should go or not. Michonne had worked out a deal with Ed's lawyer and the divorce was in some kind of state of processing. Apparently things would be worked out there rather quickly and Michonne was confident that it would be granted before long. Carol didn't think that there was anything that anyone could say about her going to the Dairy-O with Shane, but she wasn't positive. Still, he was a police officer, so they might not even pay it any attention, and it was just ice cream.

"I…" she hesitated, looking around to see if Andrea had emerged from the building yet.

"Come on, Carol Ann, it's muggy as hell and I'm wide awake. I know you're not going straight to sleep after dealing with those sloppy drunks," Shane said, smiling.

Carol considered it for a moment longer and turned when she heard Andrea call her from the sidewalk.

"You coming?" Andrea asked. "Who the fuck…oh…night, Shane," Andrea called.

"Night Andrea," Shane called back. "What'cha say? I'll take you home, safe and sound."

Carol nodded, finally and turned back toward Andrea.

"You go on without me," Carol called. "I'm going with Shane."

Andrea stood on the sidewalk for a moment obviously trying to figure out if she should actually continue on the walk back to the apartment buildings or not. Carol circled around the car and pulled open the passenger side door, sliding in. It was only when she looked over her shoulder, buckling her seatbelt, that she noticed Andrea finally start to head home for the night.

Carol felt strange as they headed toward the last place that was open in Sweet Junction besides the all-night pharmacy and liquor store. She felt, for a moment, like she was back in high school. Shane was handsome, and he was charming. Carol almost felt her head swimming for a minute with the school girl thrill that he'd picked her up from work to drive her out for ice cream.

"Nobody too out of control in there tonight?" Shane asked, steering the car in the direction of the small restaurant that would likely be packed with teenagers who'd negotiated a later curfew and drunks who were trying to eat something to absorb whatever alcohol they'd guzzled.

"Not too bad," Carol said. "Nothing out of line for a Friday night at least."

Shane chuckled a little and pulled the car to a stop in one of the parking spots.

"What do you want?" Shane asked. "My treat."

"You don't have to treat me," Carol said. "I make my own money now, and this isn't a date."

Shane smiled at her.

"I insist," he said. "What do you want?"

"Strawberry," Carol said. "In a waffle cone."

Shane smiled again, unbuckling his seatbelt and heaving open the door.

"One strawberry waffle cone for the lady," Shane said. "Coming right up. You hold things down out here and don't mess with the radio." He winked at her and closed the car door.

Carol sat there, in the cruiser, and watched as Shane made his way into the little restaurant, nodding in the direction of several people and speaking to a few more. She'd had a crush on Shane in high school, but for whatever reason he'd never been interested in her. She hated to admit that she was curious if he was interested now, or if he just genuinely happened to pass by the Watering Hole at precisely the time that they were closing up shop.

When Shane came back, he got in the car and passed her the cone. She thanked him and licked at it, glad that he brought extra napkins because no matter how hard she tried, she'd never been very good at eating ice cream without making a mess.

"I've got an idea," Shane said. "It's a nice night. Let's drive down to the lake."

Carol felt her heart jump in her chest and she suddenly felt like she was sixteen again. Going to the lake had been a big deal when they were in high school. She didn't know if it still was, but it had always been the place where they had picnics during the day, but at night you went there for pretty much one of two things, which really ended up being only one thing. You went there to swim, or you went there to park…and usually you went there to swim until you worked up the nerve to park.

"I don't know," Carol said, momentarily forgetting that there was ice cream in her hand that risked dripping all over her in the Georgia heat.

"Come on," Shane said, switching on the car and backing out of his parking spot. "It would be a shame to waste the night."

Carol realized that she had very little say in the matter right now. Shane was eating his ice cream with one hand and steering the car through town with the other. She tried to focus on her ice cream and not let the panic that was threatening to overtake her rise up.

She didn't know why she felt panicked either. She certainly had the right to choose what she did or didn't do at the lake, and she was an adult. She could do what she wished with Shane Walsh if that was what she decided she wanted to do. The whole thing was in her control. Still, she felt like a panicked virgin just at the thought of going there.

When she was in high school she never would have dreamed of going to the lake. She heard other girls talk about it, but she wasn't that kind of girl. Come to think of it, that could have very likely been why Shane Walsh had never been interested in her in high school. She'd never even been out there with Ed.

Carol nearly gave herself brain freeze a time or two because she was focusing so hard on her ice cream to relieve her growing nervousness, that she swallowed half the ice cream cone whole. Shane drove along, casually eating his ice cream, and every now and again he would glance in her direction and smile. She wondered if he could tell that she was freaking out, and that she hoped she didn't get sick and throw strawberry ice cream up all over the place.

When they pulled up to the lake, Carol realized that somewhere along the line there had been some kind of generation gap. She expected the place to be crowded with cars and teenagers, but they appeared to be the only car out there. She reasoned that over the years there had been some other place that was dedicated as the cool place to spend a Friday night.

"Come on," Shane said, unbuckling his seat belt. "It's nice out, we can sit on the hood."

Carol sighed and mopped the sticky remnants off her hand the best she could. She unbuckled her seat belt and got out. Shane slipped up on the hood of the cruiser and leaned back against the windshield, his hands under his arms.

"Won't that bend the hood?" Carol asked.

Shane sat up a little and chuckled.

"Don't know if you noticed, Carol Ann, but these cars aren't exactly in the best shape. It won't be the first damage the hood has ever seen," Shane said.

Carol tried to figure out how to gracefully get on the hood, but she wasn't experienced at this sort of thing and she somewhat afraid that she would step somewhere she shouldn't and pull something off.

Shane sat up and watched her fumble around for a second before sliding off and coming around. He caught her around the hips and she gasped a little, not expecting the contact. He smiled a half smile at her and heaved her off her feet, sitting her down on the hood. She didn't move until he'd removed his hands from her hips and circled around again, hoisting himself back into his original position.

Carol leaned back against the windshield like she'd seen Shane doing. It was a nice night, and the view of the lake was peaceful. The moon was big and full and it glittered on the water.

"It's nice out here," Carol said, feeling more relaxed now about the situation.

"I like to come out here when I'm off duty," Shane said. "It's quiet and it sort of helps you wind down. I'm not always ready for bed when I get off work."

"I know what you mean," Carol said. "Sometimes I come in and I can barely make it to the bed and other nights I feel like I could run half a marathon before I go to sleep."

For a little while they stayed there in silence then, both gazing out over the lake. Carol closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around her, enjoying the quiet. She'd never imagine this place to be like this at night, but then again all she'd ever heard about it was how many people had been there and how fast they could steam up windows before the police came knocking on them. She laughed a little at the thought that now she was perched on a police car at the very same spot the police used to interrupt the backseat fumblings of inexperienced high school students.

"What's so funny?" Shane asked.

"I guess this isn't what it used to be in high school," Carol said. "Where do the teenagers go now?"

Shane chuckled a little.

"You remember everything, don't you?" He asked. "No, the lake isn't the go to spot anymore. Most nights that I'm out here I'm surprised if I see another car. Now the kids all go down to Milland's Pond. You know over there off Route 4."

Shane sat up a little, and Carol turned, watching him look out over the lake. He turned back at her and smiled, half laughing to himself.

"God I hate the nights that I'm on duty and I have to go out there," Shane said. "I always feel like the biggest asshole tapping on their windows and telling them to go home. I'm wrecking every high school boy's fantasy of cherry chapstick and bubblegum. I've become the asshole I hated in high school."

"Their parents are probably thankful that you're that asshole, though," Carol said. "The scenery might have changed, but I'm sure that reputations are formed just as quickly now as they ever were."

"Yeah…" Shane said, "maybe you're right. Still, they're just being healthy teenagers. It's hard to treat them like they're really breaking some kind of serious law."

Carol sat up and pulled her knees up to her then. The air was damp with humidity, but there didn't seem to be any bugs out. Around them the only sounds were frogs and crickets happily humming. She turned back toward Shane and he was half smiling at her, barely visible in the moonlight.

"What?" She asked.

"You're just as pretty as you were in high school," Shane said. "Maybe prettier, if it's possible."

Carol felt herself blush and was thankful that he wouldn't be able to see that in the darkness.

"And you're still the same sweet talker," she said.

"I don't sweet talk like I used to," Shane said. "You grow out of that. Start realizing that it really isn't getting you anywhere, especially in a town like this."

Carol yawned. She was getting tired now and the peace and tranquility around them just reminded her that she was sleepy.

"Am I picking you up in the morning?" Shane asked.

"No," Carol said, stifling another yawn. "Michonne doesn't work again until Monday. I'm off tomorrow. I'm working at Lula's on Sunday, but I won't need a ride there."

"Ed leaving you alone?" Shane asked.

"So far," Carol said. "I just keep thinking that he's going to show up, but he hasn't. I hope it stays that way."

"I heard through the grapevine that he's thinking of leaving town. That new construction company's putting him under, so they say. I'm not sure too many people will be sad to see him go," Shane said. He glanced back toward Carol again.

"I wish he would leave," Carol said. "I've always heard that you shouldn't regret having loved someone, but that's not the case with Ed. I regret everything about him. I wish he was gone and I never even had to hear his name again."

"That's the crazy thing about love," Shane said, "it can bite you in the ass."

Carol chuckled a little.

"I didn't think you ever loved anyone," Carol said. "If you did, I never heard about it."

"Grapevine doesn't know everything," Shane said. "I've been in love before. A couple of times, actually. Well, at least once…maybe the other times I just thought I was…"

Carol lolled her head toward him, smiling.

"What?" Shane asked. "I can't say I've been in love?"

"Sure you can," Carol said, "but it just sounds like here comes the part where you tell me you were in love with me and then I'm supposed to swoon over it…except I shouldn't be wearing my uniform from the bar. I should be wearing something more akin to what I wear to Lula's."

Shane chuckled.

"Shows how much you know, Carol," he said. "I was in love with Lori Sharp."

"Rick's wife?" Carol asked. "I never knew anything about that."

"Ah, the great all-knowing Oz of Sweet Junction doesn't know everything," Shane said. "By the time that I was in love with her she'd already been going out with Rick for about six months. I don't think she even knew what I felt about her."

"So you don't know if you loved her or not," Carol said. "You thought you might, but you really can't know if you love someone if you've never tried being in love with them."

"You get that shit off of Oprah?" Shane asked.

Carol giggled at him.

Shane slid off the car and circled around to her side. She scooted over, certain she could probably slide off the car without half the trouble that she'd had getting up, but realizing that he was going to be a gentleman and keep her from possibly spilling into the grass. Shane wrapped his hands around her waist and started to slide her off the hood, but suddenly she stopped the downward motion. She was pinned against the fender, still barely resting on it, and Shane's arms were around her.

Carol wasn't sure exactly what to do at the moment. Shane smiled at her, and leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. She kissed him back, tentatively, unsure of whether or not she wanted to kiss him at all.

One of his arms left its position around her, and she felt her weight shift a little. Her right toes barely touched the ground, but she remained suspended, pinned between Shane and the car, his leg supporting her state.

The hand that had left its station rubbed the side of her face gently and she felt him tuck a loose curl behind her ear. He was looking at her, a calm look on his face. He leaned in, kissing her again, and she felt his tongue teasing her lips. She let his tongue in and he kissed her fully, his hand travelling then down to her thigh and wrapping around it.

Carol pulled away from the kiss as much as she could in her current position. She was a little short of breath and he was pressed against her tight enough that even if she wanted she couldn't have breathed too deeply.

"We should go home," she said.

Shane smiled softly and kissed the side of her face. The hand on her thigh trailed upwards and she felt him rubbing the inside of her thigh, just inside the leg of the shorts she was wearing. She swallowed.

"It's still early," Shane said. "It's not like our parents are waiting up for us."

Carol wasn't really sure what to do now. She realized, suddenly that she didn't want this to go any farther, but she was a little afraid that she might have let herself be led into some kind of trap. There was no one out here, and Shane was a police officer.

"I think we should go," Carol repeated.

Shane kissed the side of her face again, his tongue trailing a line across her jawbone. He leaned into her ear.

"You're not in high school anymore, Carol Ann. There's no need to protect your virtue," Shane said.

"It isn't about that," Carol said. "I don't want to do this…"

She felt Shane's hand trail deeper into her shorts and rub against the seam of her underwear. She sucked in a breath.

"If you don't want to do this here, we can go back to my place," Shane said. "I understand if you're one of those romantics that likes to have a bed. I'll be good to you, you'll like it."

Shane searched her lips out again and Carol turned her face away from him.

"I don't want to have sex with you, Shane. Not here and not at your apartment. Not at all," she said. She held her breath for a moment, not knowing what to expect. She thought that maybe he'd attack her. Maybe she'd end up some kind of statistic. She didn't expect him to back away, setting her down on the ground.

As soon as her feet hit the ground and Shane had backed a few steps away, Carol nervously tugged at her shorts and shirt, making sure everything was where it should be.

Shane looked at her and ran his fingers through his hair. He stepped forward and Carol jumped, but he didn't go for her. Instead he opened the passenger side door and stood there until she walked a large circle around him and got in. He closed the door and circled around, climbing in the driver's seat.

When he'd buckled himself in, he ran his fingers through his hair again and cranked the car, chuckling a little.

"Carol Ann McAlister," he said, a low growl to his voice, "once the ice princess, always the ice princess."

Carol sat back in her seat. The nickname, one she'd heard a few times in high school for having turned a few guys down for dates that might have gone similar to this, stung more than she thought it would after all these years.

"You're going to pickle, Carol," Shane said, shaking his head. "It's a waste too. Keep yourself all locked up tight. Protect your reputation, but one day you won't have to protect it because no one's going to want it at all."

Carol didn't say anything. She bit back the tears a little at the thought of herself growing old and alone. Maybe Shane was right, or maybe he was just goading her because she'd turned him down and hurt his pride a little. She rode in silence until they pulled up at the apartment. She started to open the door, but Shane's hand shot out and caught her arm. She turned quickly toward him and he didn't look as annoyed as he had before.

"No hard feelings," he said. "I'll pick you up for work on Monday."

Carol didn't know if she should tell him that she was sorry that she hadn't wanted to have sex with him, or if she should thank him for continuing to drive her to work in light of the fact that she hadn't had sex with him. She was in unfamiliar territory here. Finally, she simply opened the car door and crawled out of the car.

"See you Monday," she said. "Goodnight."

She walked toward her apartment, aware that behind her Shane was waiting to make sure that she got at least to the lit stairway without a problem. She dug her keys out of her purse, fighting back the tears and wondering why exactly she was so upset that she couldn't wait to get to her bedroom and let out everything that was puddling up just behind her eyes.


	27. Chapter 27

Daryl cursed as he busted his knuckles for what would be the last time for that Saturday. He pretended the failing light was what was driving him in as he packed up his tools, but really it was frustration more than anything.

He couldn't figure out what he was doing still working on this old, rusted out piece of shit truck. He'd been to the parts store twice already for it and it still wasn't running. Pride was really all that he could attribute it to at this point. He had wanted to fix the stupid truck for Carol. He thought it would be something that she'd appreciate. He'd even imagined, when he'd first struck the deal with Hershel, how happy she'd be when he handed her the keys and declared that she didn't need to depend on anybody, especially Shane Walsh, for rides to work anymore.

He'd thought that she would smile at him…not the fake smile that she reserved for the drunken asses that stunk up the Water Ho, but the real smile that made her nose wrinkle and her eyes narrow. The smile where she sometimes bit the tip of her tongue. He'd imagined there'd be more too…but now there wasn't going to be anything.

Daryl started toward his truck, hissing at the sting of his knuckles. He almost didn't notice Hershel crossing the lawn toward him.

"Heading home for the night, son?" Hershel asked. Daryl was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Too dark ta work," he said, trying to hide his frustration.

"You didn't eat tonight. Jo's got some leftovers, if you're hungry. Fried chicken and biscuits, best meal you'll find this time of night," Hershel said, smiling.

Daryl shook his head.

"No thank ya," he said. "I reckon I'ma just head on home."

"Fine," Hershel said. "Daryl, is there anything you might want to talk about? I noticed that you seem to have something on your mind."

Daryl looked at the old man. He was a nice old man with the perfect damn life. He had a wife that cooked him food all the time and smelled like Christmas should smell. He had kids and a farm and his fucking life was everything that every damn sappy movie that Daryl had ever seen was fucking made of. What was he going to tell this old man? I'm sorry that I'm a little pissed off because I'll never have what you have, and even if I did have it I probably wouldn't know what the hell to do with it and I'd end up pissing it away?

Or maybe he could tell the old man how he'd fucked Carol about fifty ways to Sunday in the span of a weekend and then that had been enough for her to realize that he wasn't worth the time? He could throw in the fact that he was really pissed at the moment because he'd damn near stripped all the skin off his knuckles fixing up a truck for her as a thank you for fucking me parting gift.

Daryl chewed at his thumb nervously for a second, trying to swallow down the frustration that had been choking him.

"Ain't got nothin' ta talk about," Daryl said. "I reckon I'll see ya on Monday."

Hershel regarded him a moment. Daryl could tell that the old man wasn't buying his lines, but he really didn't care.

"Your hand looks pretty bad. Why don't you let Jo have a look at it?" Hershel asked, wrinkling his brow a little.

Daryl quickly dropped his eyes to his bloody hand and then looked back at the old man.

"Nah, it's fine," he said. He didn't know how to tell the old man that he didn't want Jo to look at his hand. He didn't want to be anywhere around the two of them. They were too damn happy and that shit pissed him off. He even hated Merle and Andrea right now. They might pretend they hated each other, but they were too fucking happy.

"OK, then," Hershel said. "You don't have to work tomorrow, but if you want to come and work on the truck, that's fine. You know where it is."

"See ya on Monday," Daryl said, turning and reaching his truck without looking back. He slung his tools into the back and got in, driving back toward town.

Daryl pulled into the Water Ho with one thing on his mind. He knew that Merle wasn't there. Andrea wasn't working that night. She was off until Monday night, so Merle would be at home up under her, or out somewhere with her, pretending that he just wasn't in the mood to go to the bar.

Daryl got out and made his way inside, looking around until he spotted Mary Ann chatting up some asshole at a corner table. He walked up to the bar, sitting in his normal spot, and asked Loretta for a bottle of whiskey.

"Tough day?" The woman asked, putting the shot glass and the bottle in front of him.

"Ya could say that," Daryl said. He pulled a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, his attention falling again on Mary Ann.

"Where's Merle? Haven't seen him for a few days," Loretta said, leaning against the bar, her oversized breasts spilling in front of him.

"Prob'ly fuckin' Andrea somewhere," Daryl growled.

Loretta chuckled. She stood up.

"Want to be alone to drown these sorrows?" She asked, watching as he tossed back a shot and poured himself another.

"Kinda like my own fuckin' company, if ya don't mind," Daryl said.

Loretta shook her head a little and reached out, patting him on the shoulder.

"Go easy, boy," she said. "Nothing's worth the headache, no matter how you feel tonight."

"We'll see," Daryl said, puffing at his cigarette.

"OK then," Loretta said. "If you want to talk about it, though, I just so happen to serve advice as often as I serve alcohol, and it doesn't cost a penny more."

Daryl nodded at her and the jolly older woman slinked off to talk to some of the other patrons.

Daryl was pretty well drunk when the bar was finally set to close. He held down his barstool, though, knowing that Loretta would let him stay until the end. Mary Ann had already noticed him and had more than once come by to speak to him. He was certain, especially with the aid of Jack Daniels, that he could crank out enough of the Dixon know how to follow through with this.

Andrea had come home the night before alone. She'd told Merle that Carol had gone off with Shane Walsh, but she hadn't known that Daryl had overheard her. He knew he had no reason to be pissed, but it made his blood boil to think that she'd gone off to fuck Shane. He'd been even angrier, lying awake on his nasty ass mattress, when he'd heard her get home and heard the familiar clink of her keys. She'd gotten what the hell she wanted from him, and she'd apparently gotten what the hell she wanted from Shane. Daryl imagined that now she didn't mind so damn much asking Shane to drive her to work. He was a police officer, after all. She could damn near fuck him in the parking lot of the A and P and no one would bat an eyelash.

And so Daryl had decided that there was only one thing left for him to do. He had to break what Merle had called the curse of the first piece. Merle had been hounding his ass about it since the day that Carol had basically told him to get the hell out of her life. Apparently the only thing you needed to get the first piece out of your head, and that was the second piece. From there it was going to be a cake walk. And right now, Daryl felt like he was in the mood for cake.

When Loretta came around and took his shot glass, declaring that he didn't have to go home, but he couldn't stay there, Daryl finally slid off his stood and nodded at the woman. He somewhat staggered his way out of the bar, deciding to leave the truck there for the night. He'd drank more than he'd intended, but he wanted all the liquid courage he could hold.

Daryl stepped out the door and lit a cigarette, leaning against the side of the brick building. He waited until Mary Ann came out and he whistled at her.

The girl turned her head quickly, looking like she might punch him for whistling, until she saw it was him.

"I didn't know if you'd still be here," Mary Ann said, her voice a little more high pitched than Daryl appreciated.

"Told ya I would fuckin' stay 'til ya got off," Daryl said.

Mary Ann walked over and leaned against him a little, kissing his jaw.

"I hope you'll stay until I get off," she said, lowering her voice a little. "It's awful rude to leave a girl hanging."

Daryl realized that he wasn't entirely sure how to proceed from here. For all the cockiness the alcohol induced in him, he really didn't know what the hell he was doing. He'd only ever done anything with Carol, and then the experience had been different.

As soon as the thought of Carol crossed his mind, though, he growled to himself and decided that hell or high water he was going to do this. He reached his arm around Mary Ann and pulled her to him, still leaning against the brick wall. He kissed her hard.

"Easy, cowboy," Mary Ann growled when she pulled away. "Where are we going?"

Daryl realized their options were limited. He wasn't fit to drive and he wasn't sure that he could perform crammed in either of the seats of the vehicles. He knew that people did it, but he wasn't exactly sure how well it worked, and he didn't exactly relish the thought of Loretta emerging from the building sometime later and seeing his ass shining out from a windshield.

"My apartment ain't two blocks from here," Daryl said. "We'll go there."

Mary Ann didn't turn down the offer, so Daryl walked with her, concentrating hard on making himself appear less drunk than he was. They made their way up the steps of the apartment building noisily, but Daryl didn't try to stifle the noise in any way. For some reason he wanted Carol to hear them. He hoped she was home and he hoped that it least raised her shackles a little to hear him coming home with Mary Ann Walsh.

"This here's my apartment, Mary Ann," he said, being far louder than necessary. Mary Ann giggled at him, apparently contributing his extra bravado to his intoxication. He pushed the door open and realized he should be ashamed of his apartment, but he really didn't give two shits. This would happen the way that Merle said it should happen. It would happen the way it always had until Merle had become a pansy ass and started shacking up with Andrea. Mary Ann would be out the door by morning, and she wouldn't come back unless Daryl decided she could. He was calling all the fucking shots.

Daryl led Mary Ann into the apartment, turning on the lights and leaving them on. He heard knocking around and Merle's bedroom door opened.

"Daryl, that you?" Andrea's voice called out.

"Fuckin' go ta sleep!" Daryl called. He didn't have the patience to deal with Andrea right now. He heard the door shut and Mary Ann giggled again.

"Was that Andrea?" She asked.

Daryl grunted, not really responding to the question. He pushed her back into his room, bringing his lips crashing against hers again. She pushed him away a little.

"Is this your room?" She asked, looking around.

Daryl reached out, his hands going for the bottom of her tank top. He pulled it over her head and she let him. When it was off, he reached around fumbling for her bra and wondered how the hell women got in and out of those contraptions so damn easily. Mary Ann, apparently noticing his struggle, reached around and unsnapped it, dropping it to the floor.

Daryl looked at her breasts. They were large and perky, but he didn't really care for them. He grasped them though, squeezing them, trying to remember all the things that had made Carol moan and simultaneously hating himself for even having to think of her, but it was the only way he knew to do this shit so it was all the inspiration that he had to draw from.

Mary Ann didn't moan, though, so he left her breasts in peace and shucked his own shirt without giving much thought to it. He went for the button on her shorts and she smiled at him, shimmying out of them quickly and grasping his own button. He took over and got out of his as quickly as possible too. He was thankful that he'd followed Merle's suggestion and bought a box of condoms to keep there for whenever he decided to get over his obsession with Carol.

He rummaged in his drawer for a moment and came out with one. By the time he turned around, Mary Ann was out of her panties and had pulled the quilt down, covering his mattress. She was laying on it, her legs slightly spread.

His eyes drifted down to the junction between her legs and he frowned a little at the soft black curls there. He told himself, though, that they were all the same, no matter what the hell they looked like. Just like Merle had told him. There wasn't one that was any damn better than the other.

Daryl realized he wasn't hard yet, and he was frustrated by it. He was surprised, then when Mary Ann wrapped her mouth around him, sucking at him. He closed his eyes, and cursed himself a moment, when it wasn't Mary Ann that he imagined looking up from taking him into her mouth. He felt himself go hard and he pushed Mary Ann back on the bed, rolling on the condom as quickly as he could.

He realized that he didn't really want to do this and he wondered if that's always how it was with the second piece. It was like yanking off a bandaid, maybe. He just had to fucking do it, but once it was done that was all there was to it.

Daryl grabbed the girl's hips and buried himself in her, keeping his eyes closed as the only way that he knew to make it through the encounter. She leaned into him, sucking at his nipple. Her hands slid down his back and he flinched a little at the thought of her fingertips running over the jagged scars.

And nearly as quickly as it had begun, Daryl felt himself nearing his release. He fell forward a moment, panting, and opened his eyes. For a fleeting moment he expected Carol's bright blue eyes to be staring back at him, that half smile on her face, but instead he was met by Mary Ann's brown eyes, and she wore a scowl instead of a smile.

"What the hell was that?" She asked as he pulled himself away from her.

"Fuck you mean?" He growled.

Mary Ann raised an eyebrow at him.

"Was that your first fuck?" She asked.

Daryl got angry. He didn't need criticism from this little bitch. He was only fucking her because he had to, because that's what the hell Merle told him to do. He no more wanted to fuck Mary Ann Walsh than he wanted to fuck Andrea.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl commanded. "I've fucked plenty a' times. Get the hell outta her if ya don't like it."

Mary Ann surprised him by rolling off the bed and quickly dressing.

"Gladly," she said. "I guess I should have known before that's how you were, but I know for sure now." She seemed angry as she quickly dressed. "You know, that one time per woman works for some people, but it doesn't work for everyone. You might want to hang out with someone to at least get to the second round, if you can find someone desperate enough to try that shit again. Your technique could use a lot of work."

"Fuck you!" Daryl spat.

"Fine, as long as it's not you doing it," Mary Ann said. She stood there a moment staring at Daryl. He sat on his bed and dropped the used condom on the floor. He was pissed at her and he was pissed at the situation. He didn't know when this shit was supposed to make him feel better, but so far it hadn't. "I won't tell anyone about this if you don't," Mary Ann said.

"Fine with me," Daryl growled.

Mary Ann turned then and let herself out of his bedroom. Daryl wrestled his shorts on and made his way to the kitchen. He watched as Mary Ann left without saying anything, slamming the door behind him. He growled and went to the cabinet, fishing out a bottle of whisky and drinking straight from it.

Andrea shuffled into the kitchen a moment later wearing nothing more, it seemed, than one of Merle's button down work shirts.

"Rough night?" She asked, raking her hand through her hair.

"Fuck off," Daryl growled.

Andrea nodded at him.

"When you start puking," she said, "aim for the toilet. I'm getting sick of mopping that shit up off the floor."

She turned and shuffled back toward the bedroom from which she'd just emerged.

Daryl ran his hands through his hair and tipped the bottle back again, defiantly thinking to himself that he'd puke any damn where he pleased as long as he paid his part of the rent. He didn't any of them. He didn't need Mary Ann Walsh, he didn't need Andrea and her damn mouth…hell, he didn't need Merle, and he sure as shit didn't need fucking Carol.


	28. Chapter 28

Carol had discovered Friday night, or Saturday morning, she wasn't really sure which because time had sort of puddled together to become one big blob, that she had the ability to cry until she actually vomited. What surprised her more, though, than this realization was that she had the ability to keep crying after that. In fact, she had the ability to cry and then vomit until she'd reached the point that now it was just crying and gagging, having long since run out of anything that her stomach could even begin to scrape up for the sake of vomiting.

And the days and nights had been long since then. She'd started crying without even really being sure why she was crying. She'd started because of what Shane had said, but she wasn't foolish enough for even a moment to believe that's why she'd continued crying. She felt, a little, like she'd just taken that opportunity to start, and once she'd started it was as though her brain decided that she should keep going, and so it had offered her everything she could possibly use as fuel to keep going.

Somehow she had decided, mostly after she realized that she couldn't actually vomit anymore if she wanted to and the gagging fits would pass, that her bathtub appeared to her to be the most comfortable place that she could imagine. She had pulled herself over the side of it and flopped there, curled up in the bottom of the tub, thinking that the crying would pass.

And when the crying didn't pass, she had flopped back over the side and crawled through the little apartment, only to return crawling back with a pillow and blanket that she meant to use to sleep in the bathtub…just until the crying stopped.

And when the crying didn't stop, but waned a little, and her brain told her that it wasn't done and didn't want to stop crying, no matter how desperately she wanted to stop, she'd crawled back through the apartment and returned with all the little relics that she needed to build a shrine to her sadness in the tub, and that had helped, for a while, to fuel the crying that her brain seemed to desperately need to do.

Sunday morning, she had crawled one last time from her tub haven to the living room and had, through blurred eyes, called Lula to tell her that she was sick and wouldn't make it to work. As she hung up the phone, she didn't feel bad about the lie. It wasn't really a lie. She felt the worst that she could ever remember feeling right now. She crawled back to her tub and shimmied her way back down among all the treasure that she'd squirreled away in her porcelain nest. Out of bare necessity and lack of ability to do otherwise, she slept some, but every time she woke up, she plucked from her brain one of the many reasons it offered her to cry, and she continued her efforts to bawl about everything she'd ever thought she might need to bawl about.

She wasn't sure what time it was when she heard keys rattling outside her apartment, but she sat up a little in the tub, clutching some of her collection to her, and held her breath. Michonne had a key to her apartment because she insisted on it. Andrea had the key that Carol had originally designated for Daryl, assuming that if nothing else the three of them might need a phone, and they considered it an unnecessary expense for their own apartment. Carol didn't know which of the two it was outside her apartment now, but she hoped that if she held her breath and kept very quiet, they wouldn't find her tub sanctuary and would assume that she was out somewhere.

When the bathroom door swung open, though, and Michonne walked in and looked down on her, Carol realized that her spot was not as invisible as she had hoped. At the sight of Michonne's wrinkled forehead looking down at her, Carol couldn't hold her breath and longer and she let out the sobs she'd been joking back since the tinkling beyond the door had begun.

Michonne sighed. She sat down on the floor, leaning against the side of the tub.

"Dean's got the girls. I asked him to take them for the day when Lula called and told me that you sounded like you were on the verge of death," Michonne said. "So tell me, Carol, why are you in the bathtub with half the shit you own? What is all this anyway?"

Michonne reached into the bathtub like she was going to finger some of the items and Carol tucked the things closest to her fingertips protectively under her. Michonne withdrew her arm, frowned, and stared at Carol.

Carol knew that Michonne probably thought she was crazy. Who wouldn't? Besides the pillow and blanket that she'd brought in to feather her nest, she had her mother's nightgown that she'd kept since she was boxing up her mother's things right after she died. She had a picture of her parents. She had a picture from her wedding day…one of the last days she'd thought her fairtytale was coming true and that she'd met the man of her dreams and would begin her life with him, the life she'd so meticulously planned out. She had a soft yellow baby blanket with bunnies on it, the first and only thing she'd bought when she'd found out she was pregnant. It had been a spur of the moment purchase, a silly decision she'd made while walking the aisles of the store. She had all the things there that reminded her that her life was a train wreck that she'd never even seen coming. How could she explain to Michonne that all the treasures in her soggy bathtub nest were just the broken pieces of something she wasn't sure she could ever put back together?

"I'm fine," Carol squeaked out. "You didn't have to come."

"Carol," Michonne said with a sigh, "you're in a bathtub and your face is coated with snot. You called in sick to a job that you actually like. You're not fine. Now, I'm not judging, but throw me some kind of bone here. What's going on?"

"I'm divorcing Ed," Carol sobbed out. "My life is never going to be what it was supposed to be."

Just having Michonne there, that concerned look plastered on her face, spurred Carol on. There was something about crying for an audience for the first time that seemed to renew even the tears that she thought had dried up and she sobbed until she gagged. Michonne backed up a little from the edge, but settled back down a second later when she seemed to realize that gagging was really all that was going to come of this.

"Are you really crying over Ed?" Michonne asked. "Or are you crying because you realize that Ed will never be what you wanted him to be?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Carol protested. "It was never supposed to be like this. We were supposed to grow old together! We were supposed to have babies and a dog and a house with green shutters." She started to sob again, then, with the same wild abandon that she had earlier. "I didn't want it all…I didn't want everything…that's all that it was supposed to be."

Michonne wiped her nose with the back of her hand absentmindedly and then turned around, yanking the toilet paper roll out of the dispenser. She rolled off a ball of toilet paper and passed it to Carol.

"So it won't be with Ed, Carol, you can still have those things," Michonne said, sniffing a little.

"You don't understand," Carol said, curling into herself and hugging her possessions closer to her.

Michonne snickered a little.

"When I threw Dean out, after I caught him cheating…I ate a gallon of ice cream in one sitting. Butter Pecan. I sat right there on my couch and I ate the whole damn thing without stopping while I watched fucking home movies of everything I thought was our perfect life. Afterwards, I hid the container in the bottom of the trashcan because I didn't want anyone finding it and giving me some stupid speech about hormones, or telling me one more time that men were going to do the things that men did and that I'd never get him back if I ate entire gallons of ice cream. And then I puked the whole gallon back up…I think I even made a little extra while it was in there so that I could keep going for longer," Michonne said. She trailed her arm over the side of the tub and brushed some of Carol's hair out of her face, now making sure that she didn't go anywhere near the items that Carol was hugging. "We've all got those moments, Carol, when we realize that somewhere we took a wrong turn and we're headed on a scenic tour through Shitville, but things get better."

Carol looked at Michonne a minute. Then she gathered up her items as best she could and flopped to the other side, her back to Michonne.

"You can say that. Your life is just fine," Carol said.

Michonne chuckled a little.

"From the outside it is," Michonne said, "but everyone's life looks a lot different from the inside than it does from the outside. I still lost my fairytale marriage."

"But you've still got your girls," Carol said, choking back a sob.

"And I'm a single mother, Carol, to two infants. The mashed carrot lifestyle isn't all it's cracked up to be," Michonne said.

"My husband pushed me down a flight of stairs and killed my baby," Carol said, burying her face into the pillow that she'd rolled against.

"OK," Michonne said. Carol thought she heard her voice crack a little. After a second Michonne continued. "You're killing me here, Carol…get out of tub and I'll marry you. You can paint the shutters green, I never had much interest in the color anyway. I'll give you one of the girls and I'm pretty damn sure there was someone handing out puppies at the A and P yesterday."

Carol almost laughed at the comment. She rolled a little, caught somewhere between her sadness and a little irritation that Michonne, although wiping at her eyes, didn't seem to realize the full gravity of the situation.

"You don't understand," Carol said again, not knowing what else to say.

"Carol, there are many, many men out there. You have a million chances to find one that wants your dream. Hell, most men would love to find a woman whose dreams would take so little effort to make come true," Michonne said. "That's one thing Dean always used to bitch about, he said I wanted too much out of life. I guess, though, we all just want what we want."

"No one is going to want me, Michonne, and they're not going to want what I want," Carol protested, rolling back over now to face Michonne again.

"Seriously, Carol? And why are they not going to want you?" Michonne asked.

"I'm used up," Carol said. "I saved everything for Ed. I put all my eggs in that basket and then Ed smashed them all. I'm not good for anything but sex anymore, and I turned Shane Walsh down. Shane was right, no one is going to want me."

"Shane Walsh?" Michonne asked. "Shane Walsh is an asshole. Good for you if you turned him down. That's why he said that, though. You hurt his pecker's feelings, so he decided to hurt yours. Plenty of men out there would want you, Carol, and not just for sex. You're funny, and you're smart, and sweet…and you're pretty…I promise that if I ever decided to give up men I'd snatch you off the market before you even knew what hit you."

"Stop it," Carol said. "Stop trying to make me laugh. I'm serious, Michonne."

"Me too," Michonne said. She unrolled more toilet paper and handed it to Carol, taking some to clean up her own face. "What were you doing talking to Shane Walsh anyway? You never told me what happened with that Dixon guy. One minute you were all about him and the next you were just like 'nope' and that's all I ever got."

"It was about sex for him too," Carol said. "He wasn't the kind of man that would want my dream."

"Did you tell him about the shutters?" Michonne asked. "Because sometimes men can particular about exterior decorating. You've got to ease them into the really big details like green shutters. Show him a picture of something…he might have thought you meant like baby poop green, and that might have been the deal breaker."

Carol snickered in spite of herself.

"You're an asshole," Carol said.

"Yeah," Michonne said. "I know. I've heard it before. What about your little dollhouse? Did you even go and look at any of them?"

"I don't have that kind of money, Michonne," Carol said. "I'm not going to make enough money to buy a house working at Lula's or at that sinkhole of a bar. This is as good as it gets. The whole thing, Michonne, the whole stupid dream, that's all it was…it was just a dream."

"Carol, this divorce, it's taking care of itself. Ed wants out of Sweet Junction. You think your life here is screwed up? Well Ed's is worse. He's being complacent about the whole thing. It looks like he's going to give you everything we're asking for just to get his ticket out of here. Soon you're going to have the money for a down payment on one of those houses if you want one," Michonne said. "Hell if you pick it out now I'll make sure it has green shutters when you move in."

Carol sat up in the bathtub then, her back against the back of the tub, her body angled toward Michonne. She'd finally stopped sobbing, and as far as she could tell, she felt like she was cried out…at least for a while.

"You really think that it's just going to be that easy?" Carol asked. "You think that Ed's just really going to walk away and leave Sweet Junction?"

Michonne shrugged.

"That's what it looks like," she said. "One way or the other, Carol, you're getting money from him. For nothing more than the two sure attacks that we have on record you're getting money. You're going to have your house and your damn shutters. The rest will come."

Carol mopped at her damn face and pushed back her hair where some of it was clinging to the wetness. She sighed, realizing her ribs and back and everything else ached worse than she'd thought it would.

"You really think that?" She asked.

Michonne nodded.

"I tell you what," Michonne said, wrestling to her feet. She leaned over and started to gather up the items in the tub. "You let me put this stuff in your room and you use this tub for what the slumlords intended it for. Take a shower. Get dressed. I'm going to pick us up something to eat from Lula's because I don't see any wrappers or crumbs in your bed here so I'm guessing you haven't eaten. Then you and I are going to drive over there and we're going to look at those houses they're building. I'm going to call Tyreese Scott and see if I can't get the keys to some of them. Can we do that?"

Carol sighed and pulled herself up. She was a little lightheaded and she held on to the wall.

"Be careful," Michonne said. "We don't need you cracking your skull open. Take your shower. I'll be back before you know it. Hell, if you want we can even stop by the A and P and see if the puppies are still there."

Carol chuckled a little. She reached her arms out and Michonne leaned into her, despite the fact that her arms were loaded down with all the items that she'd collected out of the tub.

"Thank you," Carol said. When she pulled back from hugging Michonne, Michonne smiled at her.

"No problem," she said. "The next time I eat a gallon of ice cream I'll call you. You can hold my hair back and we'll call it even.

Michonne slipped out of the bathroom and Carol stood in the tub until she heard the door close and heard Michonne's keys tinkling outside. She started to strip then and got out, turning on the water. She felt a little better than she had, and she hoped that one good weekend of tub surfing was really all she needed.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

When Michonne stepped out of Carol´s apartment and locked the door, she sighed. She knew where Carol was at right now. She´d been there before. If anything she was envious of any woman in the world that had never been there. There was something truly heartbreaking about the moment when you realized that you'd spent so much time constructing a life in your mind, and that life just wasn't what you had in reality.

She knew that it would pass, though, and that Carol would land on her feet. Carol was stronger than she even gave herself credit for, and Michonne could see that. Even nesting in a bathtub didn't disprove that in her mind. She knew, because she'd heard it from others so many times, that people tended to have to this strange misconception of what constituted strength in a person. They seemed to believe that things like crying in bathtubs or eating ice cream until you puked because you thought your heart was broken showed you were weak. Michonne knew that wasn't true, though. Strength came in a lot of different shapes and sizes, but what really defined it, at least in her mind, wasn't how many times you got knocked down and had to crawl around finding yourself, it was how many times you got up at the end of it all, swept up the pieces, and kept going.

As Michonne turned from leaving the apartment, set on picking up lunch at Lula's she heard noises coming from the apartment across the hall. She shook her head a little, wondering what kind of brutality and violence the rowdy crowd was up to at this fine hour on a Sunday.

She started down the steps from the apartment building and almost stepped on Andrea who was sitting in the stairwell, smoking a cigarette and looking out toward the parking lot. Andrea turned her face toward Michonne as she passed.

"Enjoying the scenery?" Michonne asked, not really knowing what else to say to the woman.

Andrea chuckled a little.

"Escaping the noise," she said. "Merle and Daryl are having a talk, and when Dixons talk it's best to get out of the way if you can."

Michonne stared at the blonde a moment.

"Are you hungry, by chance?" Michonne asked. Andrea looked at her, a half smile on her lips. She raised an eyebrow.

"I could eat," she said.

"Come on," Michonne said. "I'm going to pick lunch up at Lula's. I thought I might walk. It's a pretty nice day."

Andrea nodded and got to her feet, collecting up the lighter and pack of cigarettes that were on the step beside her. She started down the stairs after Michonne and fell in beside her when they hit the sidewalk.

"So what brings you to the beautiful Sweet Junction Estates?" Andrea asked, lighting another cigarette.

"Carol was just having a bit of a rough day, needed a little pep talk," Michonne said.

"And like the good friend you are, you came to give it to her, right?" Andrea asked.

"Something like that," Michonne said. "What are the Dixons talking about?"

Andrea sighed and looked at Michonne as they strolled slowly along. She took a drag off her cigarette before responding.

"They're talking about Carol," Andrea said.

"What about her?" Michonne asked.

Andrea chuckled.

"What are they not talking about?" She asked. "Merle is spewing his infinite brotherly advice to his brother. It's just that they don't know how to have any kind of conversation that doesn't involve yelling at one another and throwing the occasional punch."

"Do you know what really happened between Carol and that boy?" Michonne asked.

"I know everything, Michonne. I'm the regular Miss Cleo of Sweet Junction," Andrea said.

"Do I have to pay for the reading or will you give it to me free just this once?" Michonne asked.

"Well, since you're buying me lunch…" Andrea said. "I don't think they even know what happened. One minute we know that they're like bunnies locked up in that apartment, and the next Daryl's saying that she didn't want a Dixon in her life and that he doesn't give a damn about her anyway. Now they just aren't talking and Daryl is running around the house like some kind of spinner with his fuse lit."

Michonne chuckled.

"So he's doing a stellar job of just not caring?" Michonne asked.

"So you could say," Andrea said. "I asked him to buy groceries yesterday, which he didn't, and when I complained without thinking that there was one egg left in the carton this morning and I didn't know what to do with it, he took it out and smashed it on the counter."

Michonne laughed.

"Congratulations," Michonne said.

"On what?" Andrea asked.

"On your bouncing baby boy, of course," Michonne responded.

"I just wish I knew what set Carol off," Andrea said. "Daryl's not real good with using words to express…well…anything. It's just not a Dixon thing."

"His brother's just as bad?" Michonne asked. They stopped then, outside the window of Lula's. Andrea sat on the brick windowsill and Michonne leaned against it, watching as Andrea lit another of the cigarettes from the pack. She took a drag off it, observed her shoes for a second, and then swallowed before turning her attention back to Michonne and exhaling the smoke.

"Merle Dixon is a man of few words that make any sense at all. He talks all the time, but he hardly ever says a damn thing," Andrea said.

"But you stay with him?" Michonne asked, turning slightly to look at some of the people who passed by them on the sidewalk.

Andrea shrugged.

"He's a good man," she said. "Like I said, words just aren't a Dixon's thing."

"He's pretty rough around the edges though," Michonne said.

Andrea smiled.

"And so am I," she said. "You would be too…but everyone's life is different."

"So you think that Daryl really cares about Carol? Like genuinely cares about her?" Michonne asked.

Andrea nodded.

"I know he cares about her," Andrea said. "I don't know if he really knows he does or not, but I do. I think he cares about her enough that he hasn't got a clue what to do with those feelings. The Dixon men aren't the kind that write you poetry about their feelings. They're more like the kind of men that would bring you slaughtered animals and wait for you to pet them for the prize they found you. I think if Daryl thought it would help him feel better, and maybe get Carol to pet him again, she'd wake up tomorrow morning with a half-eaten squirrel or some shit like that outside her door."

Michonne laughed.

"Maybe not a squirrel," Michonne said, "but I think that Carol might respond to that sort of thing, if we could get her to understand exactly how to speak Dixon. I think that Daryl could be good for her, and from the sound of it, she could be good for him."

Andrea cocked her eyebrow at Michonne.

"Are you suggesting something?" She asked.

Michonne put her hand on the window and leaned for a moment. Andrea continued to watch her.

"I might be," Michonne said. "How well do you speak Dixon?" She asked.

Andrea smirked.

"I'm damn near fluent at this point," Andrea said.

"And I'm developing a pretty good grasp on Carolese myself," Michonne said.

Andrea smiled.

"So what are you saying?" She asked.

Michonne straightened up, smiling.

"Let me buy you lunch, she said, and we'll talk about it," she said.

She walked around and pushed open the door to the diner, leading Andrea inside and smiling to herself. She'd never really known Andrea very well, but she had a feeling that they were about to get to know each other much, much better.


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Wow, I want to thank you all for all your positive reviews and messages. They mean so much. I'm glad to see that everyone is still enjoying our story here and is excited for what's to come.**

**I'm working around academic writing, and I have to admit that I'm momentarily neglecting my other stories, but at the moment I'm wrapped up a little in my thoughts for Sweet Junction. Please forgive typos and such…these things happen.**

**I hope you enjoy! **

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 1

Michonne's part of the first step of their, perhaps bumbling, master plan was the easiest part. She had to get Carol out of her apartment and away from the bathtub oasis. She needed to find some positivity for her friend.

Meanwhile, it was Andrea who had the most work to do in the beginning.

Andrea shoved open the door, balancing the Styrofoam containers. She looked around the apartment and recognized the telltale signs of a conversation between Merle and Daryl. There was an empty glass on the counter and a puddle of what she imagined, from the smell, was whisky that had run off the counter and dripped onto the floor. One of the chairs at the card table was flipped on its side. She sighed, knowing she'd have to clean it up or they'd be housing all the rats in the building before the sun went down.

Andrea put the containers of food on the table and called out, trying to see if any of the men remained on the premises. Daryl came shuffling out of his bedroom, but there was no response from the room she shared with Merle.

"Did you run Merle off?" Andrea asked.

"Fuck him anyway," Daryl said. "I ain't done a damn thing to him. He's the one flappin' 'round here like an ass. Done gone off ta see if he can't hold down some damn stool at that bar, I betcha."

This was going to go easier with Merle gone anyway, and Andrea knew she had all the time in the world to collect Merle from the Watering Hole. She'd consider it, for the time being, like daycare for Merle and focus her attention on the youngest of the men she apparently shared her life with now.

"Well," she said, walking around and sitting up the chair, eying the dripping mess she'd clean up later, "as long as you've had your little chat with Merle, why don't you have some lunch with me and we'll talk."

"Ain't hungry an' I don't want ta talk ta ya ass no way," Daryl growled. He rubbed at his eyes and Andrea knew that he hadn't been sleeping.

"Sit down, Daryl," she said, trying to use the best mom voice that she could find. "You haven't eaten today and even if you don't talk you're at least going to listen."

Daryl grumbled and growled a little, yanking back the chair that she'd just sat up and plopping into it. Andrea went to the drawer and dug out two forks. She returned to the table, taking her own seat, and offered Daryl one of the forks and one of the Styrofoam boxes.

"The first thing you need to know about life, Daryl, is that Merle Dixon is the last man you ever need to take advice from," Andrea said, opening her box and beginning to eat.

"Yeah?" Daryl said. "What the hell ya know 'bout that anyway? Don't look ta me like ya done too damn good yaself."

Andrea shrugged and nodded a little.

"I admit, I could have done a hell of a lot better. But just like you, I got to where the hell I am by my own devices. Didn't have a whole lot of help. My parents weren't exactly blue ribbon prizes either," Andrea said. "I did learn something, though, along the way."

"What's that?" Daryl asked, with little to no interest in his voice.

"I learned how to tell when a man is full of shit," Andrea said. "Had to get lied to more than once to do it, but I developed one hell of a bullshit detector, and right now you're blowing it up."

"Yer fuckin' my brother an' you're tellin' me I'm full a' shit?" Daryl asked.

Andrea chuckled.

"The difference, Daryl, or rather one of the differences, between you and your brother is that Merle knows he's full of shit, and you haven't figured it out yet," Andrea said.

"The hell you on about?" Daryl asked.

"Oh come on, Daryl. What was that shit with Mary Ann Walsh last night anway?" Andrea asked.

"I reckon I got a right ta fuck who I want," Daryl said. "Don't know why the hell I gotta answer ta you about it."

"Come on, Daryl, that was the most unsatisfying fuck in the history of fucks," Andrea said. "Even I was frustrated afterwards and I was just listening to the shit."

"The hell was ya listenin' for?" Daryl asked, sulking a little.

Andrea snickered.

"The walls in these lovely apartments are made out of cardboard at best, Daryl. I'd have had to be struck deaf not to hear it," Andrea said. "You didn't want to fuck Mary Ann."

"I fucked her, didn't I? Reckon I wanted to an' I did," Daryl said.

"Did you fuck her because Merle told you too?" Andrea asked. Daryl glanced at her and she did her best to focus her eyes on his so that he would feel trapped and wouldn't look away as quickly. The result was that he simply narrowed his eyes at her and refused to respond. "Daryl, the first rule of life is that you never take advice from Merle," Andrea said. "Especially not when it comes to women…Now, tell me what happened with you and Carol."

Daryl looked at her like he wanted to tear her throat out with his teeth, and Andrea knew she hadn't been wrong about the situation.

"Ain't nothin' ta tell, ya damn nosy ass. She don't want no Dixon in her life an' I don't care. I was tired a' fuckin' her anyway," Daryl growled.

"Ahh, there's my mini-Merle again," Andrea said. "Now that you're done with that, what really happened? What did she say?"

Daryl shook his head a little and started to rearrange the food in his plate with his fork. Right now Andrea didn't care if he built a string bean and mashed potato castle as long as he told her what she needed to know.

"Don't know," Daryl said. "Said some shit 'bout not knowin' what tha hell she wanted an' if I knew what I wanted an' then that was it."

"And what do you want?" Andrea asked. She watched the elaborate mess that Daryl was making of what was supposed to be his lunch. The look on his face changed, and Andrea realized, even more than she'd known it before, how alike and how different Merle and Daryl were.

Merle was harder than Daryl. Really, more than that, Merle had perfected the crust that he believed made him harder. Andrea knew that Merle really wasn't very hard at all. He was hurt, and like most hurt people he'd developed a scab to help protect the wound. There were times, though, like when he drank too much, that the hard melted away to reveal the sad, scared, wounded little boy that had somehow got trapped underneath all those years of a man who wanted to be a hard ass.

Daryl also had the same little boy inside, but he hadn't built the shell to be quite so thick. The boy in Daryl was closer to the surface, peeking out more often than the one in Merle. And right this moment, the little boy was looking out at her and almost begging for help. She wondered, for just a second if Daryl was going to cry.

"Daryl, you can tell me the truth," Andrea said. "I'm not Merle, and I'm not judging you. What do you want, Daryl?"

Daryl looked at her, glaring, and she knew that his anger was all he had when the little boy inside felt threatened or scared. Merle had it too. It had caused Merle to punch a hole in the bedroom wall that she'd hung a dime store picture over, and it had caused more than one broken glass around the apartment. The scared little boys would be why they'd never have nice things, she thought.

Andrea shook her head gently at Daryl and smiled.

"Don't look at me like you hate me," Andrea said. "You don't hate me. I make you pancakes, remember? Nobody can hate the maker of the pancakes."

"Fuck you," Daryl growled.

"We covered that," Andrea said. "Daryl, I know you don't love this place. I know you don't love spending your free time at the Watering Hole. I know you don't even like ogling women, and you didn't like fucking Mary Ann Walsh. So what is it that you do like, besides pancakes? What is it that you want, Daryl?"

"It's stupid an' it ain't gon' happen, so what the fuck ya wanta sit 'round her talkin' with me for? Ain't'cha got no damn friends with pussies ya can talk to?" Daryl asked, his voice rising louder as he went. "What the fuck you want, Andrea? Ya fuckin' happy with ya fucked up life? Ya ain't nothin' but a damn whore an' everybody in town knows it, 'cept now ya Merle's whore an' he don't even give a flyin' fuck about'cha!"

Daryl got to his feet and Andrea swallowed. She wasn't going to let Daryl's words upset her. She knew that's all that they were. They were words. They were the words of a scared, angry little boy. She had to keep reminding herself of that. She was encroaching on territory that scared the shit out of Daryl. She was trying to talk about feelings, and even though he had more of them than many people did, he was scared to let any of them out except the hate, anger, and rage that he'd been living off of since before he was weaned.

"You're right, Daryl, I don't have everything that I want…not yet," Andrea said. "One day I might though. I guess that if I had to say what I want, then one day I'd like to have a place to live that didn't smell like goat piss. I don't know that I'm all about the Leave it To Beaver lifestyle, but I'd maybe like to be something a little more respectable than Merle's whore…I wouldn't mind going back to school eventually. Maybe get some kind of degree? Be something more than a barmaid."

Daryl stood there, staring at her. On his face was all the apology she needed. He hadn't mean to say what he'd said, but he wouldn't admit it. Dixons never said they were sorry, at least not in those words.

"Sit down, Daryl. Eat your lunch. Tell me what the hell you want," Andrea said.

Daryl sighed and took his seat again. He forked a mouthful of his earlier masterpiece into his mouth and chewed, staring at the plate for a moment.

"I wanta be like Hershel," Daryl said.

Andrea had not been expecting that response, but she tried not to choke on the food that she was eating. She nodded a little.

"You mean you want to be a cattle farmer?" Andrea asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Don't care 'bout the damn cows," Daryl said. "Ya ever met Miss Jo?"

Andrea nodded. She'd known Hershel and Jo Green for as long as she could remember. They were good church going folks, the kind that had always had so many wonderful things to say when Amy was growing up. The kind that urged her, when she started working at the Watering Hole, to turn away from the life that she was living, the life that everyone thought she was living, and to come to church. That magical brick building with the ugly stained glass windows that was supposed to turn her into everything she'd never been and would likely never be.

"Yeah, I know her," Andrea said.

"They always smilin' at each other," Daryl said. "An' she don't ever let him be outside the house for more than an hour 'fore she comes out an' she asks him if he wants somethin' and sometimes he does an' sometimes he don't, but they always smile."

"So you want Miss Jo?" Andrea asked. "Or rather…you want your own Miss Jo?"

"Told ya it was dumb," Daryl said, pouting into his food again.

Andrea smiled.

"It isn't dumb, Daryl. You want a happy relationship, that's all," Andrea said. "People have certainly been after far loftier goals since the beginning of time."

Daryl played with his food and Andrea heard the punching noise which could only be the sound of him having shoved his fork too deep into the Styrofoam. She groaned a little to herself imagining the mess that would probably leak out of the bottom of the box. The fact that they didn't have rats as big as German Shepherds was a surprise.

"What about Carol, Daryl? Are you pissed off because you thought she was going to be your Miss Jo?" Andrea asked.

"Told ya," Daryl said. "I don't give a fuck about her."

Andrea watched as his frustration drove him to stab harder at the box that had done nothing to him. She reached her hand across the table and put it on his arm.

"We're being honest here, Daryl, and I'm not going to tell Merle a single damn word of this conversation. Were you pissed because you thought that Carol was going to be that? Is that why you fucked Mary Ann Walsh?" Andrea asked.

Daryl rolled his eyes at her.

"It don't matter no way," Daryl said. "She don't want nothin' from me an' Dixon men don't live like Hershel Greene. We ain't made that way."

"And there's Merle again," Andrea said with a sigh. "Listen, Daryl, your brother is jaded in a lot of ways. He thinks that Dixon men don't live like Hershel Greene, but what he's really saying, the words that you don't hear, is that he's terrified that Merle Dixon _can't_ live like Hershel Greene. Genetics doesn't have a damn thing to do with relationships. If you want to live like Hershel then you damn well do it and tell Merle to suck his own dick if it bothers him. Who your parents were don't determine what your relationships will be like. You decide that. If you want to have a relationship like that, though, you're going to have to work at it, and you're going to have to work just as hard at it as you've ever worked for anything in your life. Hershel and Jo might make it look easy, but that's just what it looks like from the outside."

"What you know about relationships no way?" Daryl asked. "Look at ya, Andrea. Ya ain't got no damn relationship goin' on here."

Andrea smiled.

"Do you think that Daryl? Do you think that this isn't a relationship? You think that I wake up every morning sunny as hell and can't wait to cook breakfast for your brother, and for you for that matter? You think that I like that Merle gets caught up feeling sorry for himself and drinks until he's a pathetic excuse for a man? The asshole puked on my feet two nights ago, but you know what I did? I cleaned him up. I got him in bed. Then I cleaned the bathroom up. It's no Hershel and Miss Jo romance, Daryl, but it's as real as they come," Andrea said.

"Merle don't want no relationships. Ya stupid if ya don't know that," Daryl said.

Andrea smiled again.

"Merle wants a relationship just as bad as you do. The difference is that he's far more terrified to admit it than you are. I figured that out the first night I spent with him. Underneath all that bravado about not giving a damn if he ever saw me again was a man who was terrified I was listening," Andrea said.

"Merle ain't scared a' nothin'," Daryl said.

"Merle is scared of plenty," Andrea said. "Same as you. You let me worry about Merle, though, and you worry about Daryl." Andrea paused a moment and watched as Daryl chewed at his lip, contemplating what she was saying. "Do you want your Hershel Greene and Miss Jo relationship?"

Daryl stared at her, the glare from earlier gone now. He looked, at this moment, like a kid that had just been asked if they wanted a new bike for Christmas but was afraid of the stipulations that would be put on the gift.

"Do you want it?" Andrea urged.

Daryl nodded, but didn't respond verbally.

"Do you want it with Carol?" Andrea asked.

"She don't…" Daryl started.

"Let me worry about what Carol Ann wants and doesn't want," Andrea said. "Do you want it?"

Daryl nodded slightly, cutting his eyes at her again.

"Are you willing to work for it? And that means no telling me to fuck myself every time I open my mouth and no more calling me a whore…" Andrea said.

Daryl started to open his mouth in protest, but stopped.

"Yeah…I reckon…" Daryl said.

Andrea smiled.

"Fine, then we've got a lot of work to do, but you're well on your way already to wearing suspenders and high waters," Andrea said. "You just better be a better student than you are a housekeeper."


	30. Chapter 30

"Thank you for meeting us like this," Michonne said to Tyreese as they stood in one of the kitchens of one of the nearly finished houses in the small development.

She was trying to remain focused on the fact that she was here for Carol and Carol's needs, but it was difficult. Carol was off, wandering around in the house, and Tyreese was looking even more handsome than he had when she'd seen him working. He was cleaned up and the t-shirt he wore was almost too small, hugging around his neck and his arms. Michonne was grateful that none of the houses they were looking at had air right now so the Georgia summer gave her an excuse to absentmindedly fan herself with one of the brochures that he had brought.

"It's no problem," Tyreese said. "I'm thrilled any time there's any interest in the houses. I love building them, but selling them is the key."

Michonne nodded at him, noticing that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. She regretted, a little, that she'd rushed to Carol's apartment so quickly that she hadn't paid any attention to what she was wearing. She was sure that her bleach stained jeans weren't much to look at it and during a quick inspection in one of the bathroom mirrors she realized that one of the girls had apparently sneezed carrots on her earlier without her even noticing. She could only hope that he thought the specks of orange carrot splatter were part of the design of her lovely t-shirt that she'd gotten for free at one of the street fairs.

Carol made her way back into the kitchen where they were standing, looking a lot lighter than she had when she was rolling around in snot and sorrow in her bathtub.

"You can see," Tyreese said, "that a lot of the finishing touches haven't been put on yet. The countertops, and the island, they're all going to be granite. If you have a particular interest in one of the floor plans, though then I could easily see to it that it's customized. You could pick your colors, especially if you're not looking to move in for at least a month or so. Same goes for the floor tile."

Carol smiled at him, glancing quickly at Michonne. Michonne turned away from her a little and pretended to have a sudden interest in the molding around the door frames.

"It's beautiful," Carol said. "They're going to look like little storybook houses."

Tyreese smiled, glancing around the kitchen.

"That's the idea behind it, I guess. I didn't want them to be too big, and I didn't want them to be too little. Just the right size for your average family," he said. "Nothing so big that it wouldn't fit with the whole idea of Sweet Junction, right?"

"The lots," Michonne asked, "are they all the same size?"

"Give or take," Tyreese said. "A few of the corner lots are a little bit larger, but really the lawn area isn't as nice on some of them because of the way that the sidewalks are being put in. Are you looking for a house together?"

Carol laughed.

"No, I'm just looking. Michonne's just been suckered into driving me around. I don't have a car," Carol said.

"I live not too far from here," Michonne said. "Straight off the main road out there. If you've passed it you've probably seen my house. It's the one where the lawn is dead. I don't know what happened to it. One day I had grass and it seemed like the next day I didn't. I'd say it was my ex-husband who did it, but he never paid enough attention to the place to even kill the yard."

Tyreese chuckled a little.

"Probably just a grub worm problem," he said. "Had a bunch of trouble with that in a development I built outside Atlanta. They ate almost all the yards before I figured out what it was. I could take a look at it sometime, if you'd like."

Michonne smiled and nodded a little, pretending not to notice the owl eyes that Carol was making from behind the man.

"I'd appreciate that," Michonne said. "Let me know when you have a little free time. You've got my number, don't you?"

Tyreese nodded.

"Well your work number," he said.

Michonne walked over to one of the counters and rested her purse there, digging through it. She wrote her number on the back of a business card and crossed the kitchen again, handing it to Tyreese.

"This is my cell," she said. "It's always on me. I'm home most every evening and during the weekends."

Tyreese smiled and nodded a little, slipping the card into his pocket.

"Well, what do you think?" He asked Carol.

"I like it," she said. "It's a little hard to imagine, though, what it's going to look like with so much left to be done."

"Why don't we walk over to my house?" Tyreese offered. "It's a little messy, but it's finished and you can get an idea of what the space looks like once everything's in place, and once you start moving some furniture in."

"Oh we don't want to put you out," Michonne said quickly. She noticed Carol flapping a little from her spot.

"It wouldn't be any trouble. Just don't judge me for the mess," Tyreese said, smiling.

"That would be great," Carol said. "It would help a lot in picturing what the finished product will look like."

"Great," Tyreese said. "I'll tell you what…I'm going to head on over there and at least try to hide some of the mess while you ladies finish looking around and you can just come on over when you're done." He reached in his pocket and fished out a key ring. He removed one of the keys and offered it to Michonne, brushing his hand against hers for a moment. "Just lock up when you're done here, and I'll see you in a few minutes."

He nodded at both of them and disappeared out the front door of the little house. Michonne turned to Carol and Carol was grinning at her like a mule eating briars.

"What was that?" Michonne asked Carol when she was sure that Tyreese was gone and out of earshot.

Carol grinned.

"What? I want to see the finished house," she said. "And while we're in there we can see if Mr. Adonis is married or not, and whether or not little Timmy exists yet."

"We're supposed to be looking for your dream house, Carol," Michonne said. "Not stalking Tyreese Scott."

"I like the houses," Carol said. "And seeing what one looks like done will help me make up my mind. It's just a bonus if we find out more information on your mystery man, right?"

"Come on, Gidget," Michonne said, starting out the door. Carol giggled at her and followed behind her. Michonne locked the door of the house back and started down the rough area they were marking off to be a walkway. "So what about your mystery man?" Michonne asked.

"What are you talking about?" Carol responded.

"Why did you really break it off with Daryl Dixon?" Michonne asked.

"I told you, Michonne. He's not interested in me for anything but sex," Carol said.

"So? Who says I'm interested in Mr. Adonis for anything but sex?" Michonne asked. "Sometimes that's how things get started. You've got to have a square one, Carol. Nobody falls straight from 'hi' to 'welcome home, honey'."

"If it's just a sex thing then you never make it past 'hi', Michonne," Carol said. "Besides, I mean I'm just getting out of this thing with Ed. I don't even know what I want."

"Sounded like you knew what you want in your bathtub," Michonne said.

"I mean that's what I want eventually…but I feel like there's so much out there. I mean Ed and I barely did the dating thing. We went straight into getting married, and then you know what happened there. It's like it went from zero to shit in a quarter mile," Carol said.

"So Daryl Dixon actually said to you, 'thank you Carol for fucking me until you couldn't walk straight and I guess I'll see you around'?" Michonne asked.

Carol snickered.

"No, Michonne, that's not what he said. Not exactly. He doesn't know what he wants, Michonne. I don't think he wants a relationship. If he's like is brother then I don't want to live like Andrea. It's better just to move on now, not drag it out," Carol said.

"Really, Carol? Move on to the greener pastures of assholes like Shane Walsh? If I remember correctly your Daryl Dixon was willing to go to jail for you, and that was even before you took him out joyriding," Michonne said.

"What's with you?" Carol asked. She stopped on the sidewalk and turned toward Michonne, shading her eyes with her hand. "Have you got some special interest in Daryl or something? I thought you were the one that told me to keep the whole thing under covers."

"I'm just saying that you seemed happy, Carol, for the little bit of time that you were entertaining Daryl. It might not be a bad idea to see if this can go somewhere. If nothing comes out of it, you haven't lost anything, have you? I mean were you waiting in your bathtub for some hot dates that I don't know about?" Michonne asked.

Carol sighed.

"Michonne, I basically told him nothing was going to happen. I don't think he's coming back," Carol said.

"He lives across the hall from you, Carol, not on Mars. I think you could see him again if you wanted to," Michonne said. "Even if you gave it a try and it didn't work, and you just ended up being friends, is that so bad? Are you rich enough in life that you can afford to throw a friend? Even if it is just a rough ass redneck?"

"You might be right," Carol said. "I'm not getting my hopes up, though."

They started forward again, nearing Tyreese's little house.

"No, we wouldn't want that," Michonne said, a little sarcastically. "Come on, let's go and see if we've found something that will work to be your dream house. If you love it, then you can put a down payment on it as soon as the first check from Ed clears."

Carol smiled a little at her and nodded.

"At least there's that, right?" Carol asked.

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Carol wasn't sure why she found the whole thing thrilling, but she felt a little like a detective as they started looking through Tyreese's house. She was already sold on the houses in general. She loved them. They were perfect. Each one of them had three bedrooms, a kitchen, a living area with a small fireplace, and even a little breakfast nook with a bay window. They were perfect little homes and she could already imagine herself standing in the kitchen in the morning, having her coffee over the sink and looking out the kitchen window.

Carol felt like she'd already lived for an entire month in the little house in her imagination. She didn't have to see anything else to know she wanted one to call her home. It would be hers, too, and she could decorate it like she wanted. She'd paint the shutters green and see about a little picket fence that would go around the yard where she could plant flowers.

Now the only thing that was going to kill her was going to be waiting for everything to be finalized. Michonne said this was going to happen quickly, but she didn't know how quickly exactly. She knew she'd be holding her breath the whole time, afraid that things would fall through with the divorce and she would never rake up enough money for the little home that she'd already moved into.

She tried to push the negativity out of her mind, though, and focus on the fun of scouring the man's home. From what she could see, as they passed room to room with him awkwardly following a few steps behind them, was that there was no Mrs. Adonis. This house was not the house of a man who was married. It wasn't that the house was disgusting, not by any means, but there were no womanly touches anywhere and Carol was certain that a woman wouldn't leave quite so much laundry in the bedroom floor.

In fact, nowhere in the house was there any indication that a woman even frequented the home. Carol paid special attention to the extra bathroom and there were no toothbrushes or hairbrushes there. He hadn't even bothered with stocking the shower.

There was no little Timmy either, and there wasn't a dog. There was a very fat goldfish in a bowl by the kitchen window, but that seemed to be as far as pets went in this household.

After they finished the tour of the house, Carol thanked Tyreese profusely for allowing her to see the ones that they were building and for letting her see what the finished product looked like. She promised to be back in touch with him as soon as she knew anything about the money that she hoped to come into, and Michonne assured him again that it would be soon.

Tyreese, being the gentleman that Carol had decided he was, told her that she was welcome to come and see the houses again if she had any doubt and that his offer still stood should she wish to customize one that wasn't so well on its way.

She noticed, after bidding him farewell, that he lingered a moment, smiling and talking to Michonne, under the pretense, of course of being concerned about when he might come to clear up her lawn. Carol thought, though, that there was a heavy amount of flirtation going on for both sides there. Michonne had clearly been spurred on a bit by the realization that Tyreese was a single man.

Carol pulled the door of the car shut and buckled her seatbelt.

"So you like the houses?" Michonne asked.

"I do," Carol said.

"So we're coming back when you get the check and you're putting a down payment down?" Michonne asked.

Carol nodded and sighed.

"I just don't want to get my hopes up over nothing, Michonne," Carol said.

"Stop that," Michonne said. "You're getting money and you're getting the house. I'll help you paint your stupid shutters myself. So no more bawling in the bathtub about the house, right?"

Carol snickered a little.

"Fine, no more crying about the house," Carol said.

"Good, see? Life isn't as dire as you thought it was. And you're going to talk to Daryl, right?" Michonne asked.

"What do you want me to talk to him about?" Carol asked.

"Hell if I know, Carol. What do rednecks talk about? It doesn't matter what you say, just that you start talking. Don't push it or anything, just let whatever's going to happen, happen," Michonne said.

"Just like you're going to do with Tyreese?" Carol asked. She looked at Michonne and a hint of a smile crossed her lips.

"Whatever's going to happen will happen," Michonne said. "Besides, the fourth of July celebration is coming up and nothing says romance quite like artery clogging food and people blowing shit up. Am I right?"

Carol laughed at her.

"I wasn't really planning on going this year," Carol said.

"Carol Ann, that stupid street celebration is about the biggest damn thing that happens in Sweet Junction. _Everybody_ goes. Of course you're going," Michonne said.

"What about Ed?" Carol asked.

"If he's there he's got to stay away from you. Besides, the police will be there, everyone will be there. Ed's not coming anywhere near you. Besides, you have to go. I'll have the girls and I could use the help," Michonne said.

"And Tyreese will be there," Carol said, smiling.

"And Daryl will be there," Michonne said.

"You're not going to give this up, are you?" Carol asked.

Michonne smiled at her.

"Not any sooner than you are," Michonne said.


	31. Chapter 31

Daryl wrestled his way through what he felt was wall to wall bodies trying to find the people he was looking for. He had rushed home after working at Hershel's for half a day and showered so that he smelt less like manure than he usually did. He'd gotten dressed quickly and rushed down the crowded sidewalk, knowing that everyone else would be at the celebration already. Apparently people started preparing for this thing hours in advance.

The entire main street of Sweet Junction looked like some kind of carnival. There was supposed to be a parade later, and the sides of the streets were littered with vendors selling fast food, balloons, American flags, and anything else that you might want or not even know you wanted.

Daryl felt a little out of place. Despite the fact that the shirt he'd thrown on after his shower was red plaid, he wasn't nearly as patriotic as most of the souls that crowded around, laughing and talking. He had seen more American flags in his search for Merle and Andrea than he'd probably seen in his entire life.

He walked along, though, his eyes darting to both sides of the street, and tried to avoid stepping on any number of small children that ran and laughed and darted through the legs of people that hardly seemed to notice them.

Finally, his eyes found Andrea sitting up on top of one of the columns outside of one of the local businesses that he hadn't frequented yet and he kept his eyes glued on her for fear of losing her in the sea of people. He'd never imagined that the tiny town held so many occupants, but then again, he'd never seen them all flood into the same general region.

Andrea's eyes found him as he was getting closer and she waved at him, one hand on her head to keep the straw hat she was wearing from tipping off when she leaned her head back to get a better view of him. He waved back at her and continued to shoulder his way through the crowd, apologizing at random to everyone he bumped into, and even to the ones that bumped into him.

Finally he made his way over to where she was and found Merle not far off engaged in some kind of chitchat with a man that Daryl didn't know. He was stopped for a second, though, when his eyes settled on Carol only a few feet away from Andrea's perch. She was smiling, looking out at the crowd, and she obviously hadn't seen him yet. She was wearing blue jean shorts that were longer than the ones she wore to work at the Water Ho, and a white tank top with a red button down shirt tied over it. He swallowed and looked up at Andrea who was smiling down at him from her brick roost.

"You made it," she said.

"'Bout drowned in all them damn people," he declared. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Carol's attention turned when he spoke. She moved closer to where he was standing then.

"Everyone in Sweet Junction comes out for the celebration," she said.

And just like that, Daryl felt his stomach do a somersault. She was talking to him. Andrea had said she'd be there. She'd said that she would talk to him. This was supposed to be his chance, his shot to make up for what he'd said, or hadn't said, in her apartment that day when he'd turned the spare key over and over in his head without knowing what to say or do. And suddenly he didn't know what to do today any more than he had then, even though he'd been rehearsing for the day the whole time he was at work.

He did the only thing he could do, and he smiled.

Andrea dropped down, then from her perch, landing with a thud on the sidewalk almost in between them. She immediately backed up and leaned against the column that she'd been sitting on.

"I just saw Michonne," she said to Carol. "She's headed this way. It should only take her about twenty minutes to make it through the crowd."

"Do you think she needs my help?" Carol asked, shading her eyes with her hand and looking back over the crowd. Daryl didn't know how she'd be able to find anyone out here unless they were up where Andrea had been. It was worse than being trapped inside a Where's Waldo book.

"No, she knows where she's headed. She'll just plow her way through, I'm sure," Andrea said.

Carol giggled a little and Daryl felt his stomach flip again.

Damn it, he'd rehearsed for this shit. He was supposed to start talking to her. He was supposed to engage her in idle conversation. That's what the hell Andrea called it. He was supposed to get her talking about herself, ask her about the celebration, and comment on the parade. He was supposed to offer some shit like boosting her up on his shoulders or something when the parade started so that she could see over the heads of all the assholes around. And right now he couldn't find his tongue in his head. All he could do was stare at her with a half a damn smile on his face that probably made him look like some creepy motherfucker instead of like the charming gentleman that Andrea said he was going to be.

Michonne shoved her way through the crowd a few minutes later, pushing a baby stroller. Daryl had met the woman a few times and he knew that she and Carol were friends, but he didn't know how to talk to her any more than he knew how to talk to Carol at the moment. The woman was a lawyer and most of what he knew about lawyers came from conversations that were had over a number of Merle's misdemeanors. He didn't know what lawyers did in their free time. And on top of that, she had two little kids with her, one of which Carol was busy wrestling out of the stroller. Daryl didn't do well with kids, and he didn't do well with Carol, and Carol with a kid was about as mindboggling as he thought the entire stupid situation could get.

"You know," Andrea said, "you should go and get us some sno cones."

Daryl looked at her a moment and observed the sea of people around him. He could see, across the street and down a ways, a vendor that had a large sign that said sno cones, but in this crowd it looked like it would be easier to get a slice or two of green cheese from the moon.

"Looks like ya done had some, or else ya been blowin' Smurfs," Daryl said.

Andrea narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head quickly in the direction of Carol who was busy adjusting a tiny hat on the head of the baby that she'd freed from the stroller prison.

"Uh, ya want a sno cone?" Daryl asked, moving closer to Carol. She turned, her attention off the baby for a moment and smiled.

"Yeah," she said. "Sure."

Daryl looked back at Andrea who was making a face at him. It looked like she was straining to do something he thought the muscles in her neck might pop if she kept doing that.

"Um…what flavor?" He asked.

Carol seemed to think about it a minute.

"Red," she said.

Daryl didn't know if he should point out that red was a color and not a flavor. He looked back at Andrea.

"I want blue," Andrea said. "Michonne, do you want a sno cone?"

"What flavors are they?" Michonne asked, kneeling down to do something with one of the kids that she was carting around.

"They've got Cherry, Blue Raspberry, and Coconut," Andrea said.

"Coconut," Michonne said.

Daryl looked back at Andrea.

"One of each, Daryl," she said, smiling.

Daryl sighed and started trying to fight his way through the crowd toward the sno cone stand. Once he stood in line and got the sno cones, he waded back through the people, practicing over and over the way that he'd strike up some kind of very interesting conversation with Carol once he passed her the sticky thing that was melting all over his hand.

When he got back to his people, they were joined by another man that Daryl didn't know exactly, but immediately identified as the man who had pulled him off of Ed in the street that day that he had caught Ed attacking Carol.

"Tyreese Scott," the man said to Daryl as Daryl started handing out sno cones to the women.

Daryl wiped his hand quickly on his pants and shook Tyreese's hand.

"Daryl Dixon," Daryl said.

"Have we met before?" Tyreese asked, wrinkling his brow in question at Daryl.

"Kinda," Daryl said, shooting a quick look at Carol who was watching both of them and smiling as she scooped out part of her sno cone with her tongue. Daryl shivered a little watching her. "You…uh…I was…we met at kinda a bad time," Daryl said, fully distracted now by how much attention Carol's tongue was paying to the melting shaved ice.

Tyreese nodded, recognition flooding over his face.

"That's right," he said, but he didn't say anything further.

Daryl stood near Carol, pushed closer by Andrea and watched her. He was failing miserably at this. Tyreese was entertaining Michonne, and she laughing at whatever the fuck he was talking about. Daryl knew that's what the hell he was supposed to be doing right now, but he just kept looking at Carol who was now trying to feed one of the little kids part of her sno cone.

"So…uh…ya always come ta watch the parade?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him then and smiled.

"Ever since I was a little girl," she said. "I used to look forward to it from the time that school let out."

Daryl smiled at her.

"Really? Why?" He asked. He couldn't really understand why anyone would want to be out here. It was hot and there were far too many people. The smell of all the fast food vendors would almost make any person nauseous, and if you weren't careful your toes were stepped on every few minutes. Not to mention that all the sweets had drawn nearly every bee from the entire state of Georgia. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, that one of them was busy chasing Andrea in small circles.

"I don't know," Carol said. "It was just so exciting. We'd come out here, stay the whole day. The parade always seemed like such a big deal and we'd eat nothing but junk food all day and then watch the fireworks when the sun went down. It's silly, I guess, but I always thought it was so much fun."

Daryl supposed that it could be a lot of fun, if you were into that sort of thing.

"It's not the same now, though," Carol said. Daryl thought she looked a little sad for a moment, and he didn't want sad. Sad wasn't what Andrea said was going to happen today.

"Why ain't it the same?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged a little.

"It's not as much fun eating junk food when you realize you're just going to get fat from it," Carol said. "And the parade isn't as exciting as it was…and I never stay for the fireworks anymore."

"Why not?" Daryl asked.

Carol crinkled her nose at him and shifted the baby she was holding to her other hip, handing off the halfway empty paper cone to Tyreese who seemed to be taking up a collection.

"The noise startles me," Carol said. "When I was little my daddy was always there. I guess it wasn't as bad when I was on his shoulders. Nothing can get you when your daddy's around, right? I know it's silly, but I just don't like the noise."

"Ain't silly," Daryl said. "Lotsa people don't like poppin' noises. Ain't no fun ta sit around jumpin' outta ya skin."

"Ed never liked to stay that long anyway," Carol said. "He was always here for the parade, and then it was time to go home. No need to stay out all night."

Daryl nodded. He stood quietly by Carol and waited for the parade to start, not sure how to dive into further conversation with her. After a while, Carol put the baby she had back into the stroller and moved back against the wall with Andrea. Daryl noticed that everyone was starting to move. Apparently it was time for the parade to start.

"Here they come!" He heard Andrea call out. He turned and she was jumping around, excited about the small parade apparently. Merle was standing beside her, his conversation having ended. "Boost me up, Merle," Andrea demanded.

"Ya gotta be shittin' me," Daryl heard his brother respond. "I ain't holdin' ya ass up."

"Come on, Merle, I want to see better," Andrea protested. "Unless you're not man enough."

"I'm man enough, darlin' but I ain't whipped," Merle responded. "Ya best get'cha damn ass back up on that pole if ya can't see from where ya standin'."

Daryl realized that was his cue. As the homemade floats got closer, Daryl stepped beside Carol who was raised up on her tiptoes trying to see over the heads of the crowd. He took a deep breath, prayed that this worked, and tapped her on the shoulder.

"What?" She asked, turning her attention briefly toward him.

"Come 'ere," he said. "I'll boost ya up."

Carol looked at him, raising her eyebrows for a second. He smiled and waved her toward him a little.

"I'm serious," he said. "Crawl up on my back. I'll boost ya up sos ya can see better."

Carol looked like she was unsure of the entire idea, but he saw several people doing it and he knew she did too. She finally sighed and moved around behind him. He felt her arms go around his neck and she hopped up. He put his arms out quickly, catching her thighs and he hiked her up before bringing his hands together under her ass to hold her up.

Daryl felt like an idiot. Just the feeling of her soft hands arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist had him threatening to go hard, and he realized that it wouldn't be so easy, given his extra load, to adjust himself in public, so he tried to will the sensation away.

He hardly paid even a moment's worth of attention to the passing parade. Everything seemed to blur in his mind and he didn't even know how long they were there, watching while poorly made floats and cars with hand painted signs rolled down the main street of the sad little town. The only thing Daryl could think about was the feeling of Carol pressed against his back, the skin of her legs rubbing on his arms as he held her in place.

"Am I OK?" Carol asked, breathing into his ear. He fought back a shiver. "I'm not too heavy am I?" She asked.

"No, ya ain't heavy at all," Daryl said.

She wasn't very heavy, but the truth was that he would have found any way he could to keep holding her there, even if she'd weighed enough to make his arms beg for mercy. He realized, standing there, the sounds of a few hundred voices screaming out their patriotic wishes to everyone around them, that he'd give anything for the stupid parade to last two days or three, just so she would stay there, pressed against his back, and he wouldn't have to look for any other excuse to touch her.

The parade ended though, finally, and she unwrapped her legs from him, dropping to the sidewalk. He hoped his face wasn't as flush as he thought it might be, just from the sinking feeling he felt of having to let her go. His arms ached, but he didn't care.

"Thanks," she said. She smiled at him.

"No problem," Daryl said.

He stood there, keeping her company, until everyone started to leave. He didn't know what else to say to her, so he just stood quietly by and listened to the scattered conversations of the people bunched around them. Finally, when much of the crowd had begun to disappear, Michonne bid them good evening, saying something about having to feed the girls and get them ready for bed.

Daryl watched as Carol bent down and nuzzled both the little girls. The youngest was sleeping, but the oldest smiled at her and reached out, pulling at her nose. Daryl could see that she was taken by the kids, and apparently they liked her.

"We're going too," Andrea said, touching Daryl on the shoulder. "We have a bottle of scotch and a date at the lake. Don't wait up." She winked at Daryl and waved at Carol. Merle didn't say anything, he just sauntered off down the sidewalk with Andrea, pushing through the people who still hadn't left.

"I guess it's time to head home," Carol said. "It'll be dark before too long and they'll start the fireworks."

"I'll walk ya home," Daryl said.

Carol looked at him like she was considering the offer. Daryl had already decided, though, that he was walking her home whether it led to anything or not. She wasn't going to be walking along down the sidewalks close to dusk, even if half the town was still wandering about.

"We live in the same damn place, woman," Daryl said, seeing Carol hesitating. She smiled finally.

"Fine, thank you for walking me," she said.

Daryl took a deep breath and tried to remember all the suggestions that Andrea had given him. He started forward and offered his arm to Carol. She looked at him, hesitated, and then finally looped her arm through his. He smiled to himself when she did.

By the time they'd walked, mostly in silence, back to the apartments, Daryl was feeling a little braver. He was also feeling like he didn't want the night to end. The sun was setting and it was a nice night with a light breeze. It was the kind of night that made him want to keep her near him. Just as they reached the edge of the parking lot, the first firework of the show in town wailed into the sky and cracked above their heads. Daryl felt Carol jump next to him. He smiled.

"Easy," he said. "Ain't nothin' but a firecracker."

"I wish they weren't so loud," Carol said. "They're so pretty to look at. I don't know why they had to make them too loud to enjoy."

Daryl thought about it for a minute, noticing her jump when the next one exploded.

"Ya like watchin' 'em?" He asked.

Carol smiled and nodded.

"They really are pretty. They're nicer on television though. You can turn the volume off," Carol said. Daryl took her hand in his then and led her over to where his old truck was parked, facing out to the street. He pulled her around opened the passenger side door. "What are you doing?" Carol asked.

"Hop in," Daryl said. Carol wrinkled her brow at him. He chuckled. "For God sakes woman, I ain't doin' nothin'. Hop the fuck in the truck."

Carol sighed and climbed into the old truck. Daryl stopped a moment, turning the crank on the window just enough to crack the glass. He closed the door and crossed around to the driver's side, repeating the action with the window and got in the truck.

Carol eyed him from across the seat. The fireworks flew up in the air. The cab of the truck, however, did a good job of softening the sound.

"Not too bad, huh?" Daryl asked, noticing that Carol was visibly relaxing a little.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's not bad at all."

"See?" Daryl said. "I get some pretty good ideas every once in a while."

Daryl slid over in the seat a little, craning his neck as though he were trying to see the fireworks better and the view was better out of Carol's side.

Eventually, she eased into him and he slid his arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head against his chest.

Daryl sat as still as he could. He was afraid to move for fear that she'd realize that she was sunk against him in the seat. He could smell her hair, and she curled down, brushing her cheek against his chest. He was trying to barely breathe, afraid that even the rise and fall of his chest could bring the closeness to an end before the fireworks ended.

Daryl didn't know how long they sat in the bed of the truck like that, watching the colorful bursts of light in the distance, but when it became clear that the show was done, he felt her shift. He turned his attention to her, her eyes glittering just a little in the light reflecting from the light post in the corner of the parking lot. He leaned into her, hoping for the best, and her soft lips met his.

For just a moment she responded to his kiss, her lips parting just enough to let his tongue trail into her mouth and gently flick the tip of hers. Then she pulled away, clearing her throat and sitting up, her hand going for the door.

"Thanks for the fireworks," she said. Daryl smiled at her.

"Thanks for watchin' 'em with me," he said.

Carol smiled and opened the truck door, getting out and slamming it shut before Daryl could slide across the seat and get out of his own door. He slammed it shut and followed a few feet behind her in the parking lot toward the poorly lit steps that led up to their apartments.

Outside the apartments, Carol bid him goodnight before quickly slipping into her apartment and Daryl lingered a moment before opening the door to his own. He didn't know, exactly, if this was what was supposed to happen, but it felt a lot better than it had when she wasn't speaking to him at all. With the taste of her kiss still on his lips, he pushed open the apartment door and slipped inside.


	32. Chapter 32

Daryl came through the apartment in a rush to get showered and cleaned up on time. He stripped down to his boxers and walked through to the bathroom, pushing the door closed and crawled in under the spray.

Just as he was washing his hair, Daryl heard the door squeak open.

"Clean towel on the commode," Andrea's voice said.

"Get the fuck outta here! Jesus!" Daryl called back. He heard the medicine cabinet open.

"Calm down Daryl, you seen one naked man you've seen 'em all," Andrea said. "All the damn packages are the same, some are just more compact than others."

"Why the fuck ya still in here?" Daryl growled. He turned to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, hissing as some of it burned his eyes.

"Did you get it done?" Andrea asked. Daryl peeked around the shower curtain. She was looking in the mirror, messing with her hair as though he wasn't naked in the shower only a couple of feet away from her.

"You're a damn piece a' work, ya know that? Yeah, I got it done," he said.

"Good," she said, turning and looking straight at him. She pretended like she was going to look around the curtain and Daryl slid it closed again as quickly as he could.

"OUT!" He yelled.

Andrea laughed.

"You've got about twenty minutes if you want to make it on time, so I suggest you get that cute little ass of yours shakin'!" Andrea said. Daryl tossed a shampoo bottle out of the shower and in her general direction, but it must have missed its mark because he heard it bounce on the bathroom floor just as he heard the bathroom door click closed.

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Daryl came into Lula's Diner and ran his hand through his hair, looking around. Carol was supposed to be there, but she wasn't, or at least he didn't see her. He cursed to himself a little, under his breath, at the fact that he'd rushed down here like this and she wasn't anywhere around.

"Can I help ya?" Donna, one of the other waitresses there, asked as she bounced toward Daryl.

"Lookin' for Carol," Daryl said.

"Oh," the woman said, cracking her gum. "She's in back talkin' to Lula. She'll be out in a minute, cutie," Donna said with a smile.

Daryl scratched at the back of his neck and wandered over to the bar area of the small diner, picking aimlessly at the sugar packets until Carol appeared out of the back, taking off her apron as she walked. Daryl straightened up as soon as he saw her and smiled.

"Hey," he said.

Carol looked surprised to see him and he realized that Andrea had only been involved in one side of this. Carol hadn't received all the updates that he had throughout the day.

"Hi, Daryl," Carol said, still looking no less confused. "You eating dinner?" She asked.

Normally you sat yourself at Lula's so loitering around the bar area when you weren't one of the old men that came in just to sip free coffee refills and talk about the newspaper was uncommon. Even Daryl knew that by now.

"Yeah," Daryl said.

Carol smiled at him.

"Well enjoy," she said, starting around him. He caught her arm and she turned, raising an eyebrow at him. He let go of her arm quickly.

"I was hopin' ya could eat with me since ya off now an' all," Daryl said.

Carol made a face, but Daryl wasn't entirely sure what the face meant. He knew she was off. Andrea had asked her about her work schedule twice just to make sure.

"I mean unless ya got other plans," Daryl said. "Better plans."

He realized Lula's Diner wasn't exactly a four star restaurant, but it was about the best that Sweet Junction had to offer. Carol bit her lip and shifted her feet a little nervously, glancing at the patrons of the restaurant. It was early for dinner, and right now the only people in the diner were the old men that didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Fine," Carol said.

Daryl smiled at her and pointed toward one of the open booths. She led the way, taking the side she obviously preferred. Donna hopped over a moment later.

"Looks like ya found her!" Donna said.

"Yeah," Daryl said. He'd only met Donna a few times, but from what he'd seen she was always bubbly.

"What can I get'cha?" Donna asked.

"Burger an' fries," Daryl said. "Strawberry milkshake."

"I'll have the same," Carol said, smiling at Donna.

"No problem," Donna said.

When the bubbly waitress had bounced her way away from the table, Daryl turned his attention to Carol. She was glancing out the window and he wondered if she was nervous like he was.

"So how was ya day?" Daryl asked. He was trying to remember the rules of conversation that Andrea made him recite this morning to win his pancakes. She would only let him have them, one half at a time, if he could remember that he was supposed to get Carol talking, get her to talk about herself as much as possible, not interrupt her when she was talking, and not say fuck more than once every three or four sentences unless somehow the conversation got turned to actually fucking and she was the one that started it.

Carol shrugged a little and smiled.

"It was good," she said. "Pretty slow."

"Meet any interestin' people?" Daryl asked. He didn't really know who you could hope to meet around here if you'd lived here your whole life. He hadn't been here all that long and he already felt like he knew most of the people, at least by face if not by name.

Carol smiled again and shook her head.

"No one new today," she said.

Donna brought their food and put it down. As soon as she left, Daryl started eating, trying to figure out what to say next. He watched as Carol unrolled her silverware, put her napkin in her lap and then cut her burger in half. He chuckled a little.

"What?" She asked.

"Ya gettin' all fancy ta eat a burger, that's all," Daryl said.

Carol looked at him, slightly irritated.

"So I don't want ketchup in my lap? Is that a crime?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"How much a' that can ya eat no way? Big as ya is I bet'cha that ya can't eat half that burger, half them fries and half that milkshake," Daryl said.

Carol looked at the plate.

"I could eat all of this," she said.

Daryl smiled and shook his head. He took another bite of his burger and chewed it.

"Nope," he said, once he'd swallowed it. "Ten bucks says ya can't."

"Fine!" Carol said. "You've got a bet, Mr. Dixon. Ten bucks if I can finish all of this."

"An' if ya can't," Daryl said, "then ya gotta go with me on Saturday for a picnic at the lake."

"I thought the bet was ten bucks," Carol said, raising her eyebrow and taking a bite of the cheeseburger.

"Ya gon' get ten bucks if ya eat it, but I get the picnic if ya cant," Daryl said. "An' ya gotta keep it down, too. Ain't none a' that barfin' right after ya done gonna count."

Carol cocked an eyebrow at him, smiling a little.

"You can't talk about barfing if I'm going to eat all of this. That's part of the deal," she said.

Daryl chuckled and nodded.

"Fine, get on it, woman, that's an awful lotta food," Daryl said.

Carol swallowed the bite she was chewing.

"And I just happen to be awful hungry," she said. "You're about to be out ten bucks, Daryl!"

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It had been oddly the best dinner that Carol could remember in a long time. She was dying from trying to eat a plate full of food that she'd never finished in her life before, but the conversation had been entertaining. She'd lost the bet, and she'd pretended to be annoyed, but the idea of a picnic did sound fun.

She really did like Daryl. There was something about him that she couldn't help but find adorable. In a lot of ways he was like a big, goofy, kid, but it was endearing. He wasn't the kind of immature guy that drove you crazy barking about how big and bad they were all the time or how many women they'd been with. It was more the goofy kind of guy that could still see fun in a lot of places where she'd begun to forget there was any fun left.

As they walked back toward the apartments, her apron thrown over one arm, Daryl reached his hand down and she felt his finger teasing the palm of her hand. She couldn't help but smile at it. Daryl Dixon was trying to hold her hand. She looked at him and smiled. He looked worried, and she thought it was cute that he was wearing as much concentration on his face over trying to get her to take his hand as she imagined most people would have trying to do something as serious as perform surgery. She decided to grant him a little help, and she slipped her hand around his, pretending not to notice his grin out of the corner of her eye.

"So a picnic, huh?" Carol asked.

"Yep," Daryl said, swinging her arm a little. "We goin' ta the lake an' we gon' have a big picnic. Andrea's packin' it."

"We have to work on Friday night," Carol said.

"Don't matter, we ain't goin' 'til late lunch so ya ain't gotta get up early nor nothin' for it," Daryl said.

Carol smiled to herself. A picnic really did sound nice. The last time that she could remember going on a picnic she'd probably been eleven or twelve and she'd gone with her parents. She'd been excited about the whole event just because they were eating outside. For some reason it didn't matter if it was just the same plain sandwiches that you might eat every day, if you ate them outside they seemed special.

"Well you tell Andrea to let me know what we're taking," Carol said. "I'll make something to take along."

She turned and smiled at Daryl who was grinning and looking ahead.

"I can do that," Daryl said. "So ya feel like ya 'bout ta pop now?"

Carol chuckled.

"I do feel like I ate too much," She said.

Daryl turned quickly and poked her in the stomach, a little more roughly, she imagined, than he intended.

"Hey!" She said, not really mad at him.

"I was just testin'," he said. "Ta see if ya really was gonna pop."

"What about you? You ate the whole thing!" Carol said, poking him in the side. He rubbed the spot and smiled at her.

"I got a lot more room than you got," Daryl said. "Ya did pretty good, though, woman. I was impressed for a bit there. Thought'cha might win after all."

"If I hadn't had lunch I could have done it," Carol said.

Daryl chuckled.

"I challenge ya to a rematch then. One day when ya ain't ate no lunch," Daryl said.

"What will be the stakes then?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Don't know, reckon we'll figure 'em out when we get there," he said.

Carol nodded. She squeezed his hand a little and responded by tightening his a little. She liked walking down the street and holding his hand.

As they neared the parking lot, Daryl kept tugging at her hand.

"What are you doing?" She asked finally.

"Come 'ere," Daryl said. "I got somethin' ta show ya."

Carol sighed and followed him, not knowing what he was up to.

Daryl walked her over to a very old truck. From the looks of it, it had once been a mint green type color, though most of the body was heavily coated in rust now. Daryl opened the door to the truck, exposing the interior. It was imitation leather and cracked in a number of places. It smelled like some kind of grease or fuel, but Carol couldn't really identify the smell.

"What'cha think?" Daryl asked.

Carol wasn't sure what she was supposed to think. If she saw the old truck anywhere she'd have imagined it to have a set of cinder blocks under the tires, that's what she thought. She looked at Daryl, hoping he would tell her what to think, and shrugged a little.

Daryl smiled and crawled into the cab of the truck. He cranked it and the truck roared to life, which surprised Carol a good deal.

"She's 'bout good as new," Daryl said. "Replaced most a' the old parts that needed more work than they was worth. The speedometer don't work, but that just means ya gotta be careful not ta get'cha foot too heavy. She runs though, an' I got a good deal on the tires so they's all almost new."

Daryl hopped out of the cab of the truck and left it running with the door open.

Carol still wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She guessed that Daryl must have bought the truck or fixed it up or something. She knew that he and Merle had the old red truck, but perhaps a second vehicle was a good idea for the two of them. She shrugged a little and smiled at him.

"It's very nice," she said.

Daryl grinned and nodded his head a little, looking at the thing.

"Ya think?" He asked.

Carol smiled again and nodded.

"Yes, Daryl, it's a very nice truck," she said.

Daryl pushed at her arm.

"Well go on," he said. "Get in, let's take her out for a ride."

Carol was confused, but she crawled into the truck. Daryl ran around the front of it and was pulling himself into the passenger's side before she ever got the door shut.

"Where are we going?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Don't matter," Daryl said. "Gas tank's full. Let's just take her out on some a' the back roads an' then cut back through town."

Carol shrugged and put the truck in reverse, backing out of the spot. She drove the old truck out of the parking lot and started down one of the back roads that led out of town. After a moment, she reached over and cranked the window down and Daryl did the same with his window. He lit a cigarette and leaned out the window a little.

"How ya like her? She drive good?" He asked.

Carol was surprised at how well the old truck did drive. The steering was a little loose on it, but that didn't take too long to get used to.

"It drives good, Daryl," Carol said. Daryl grinned.

"Good," he said. "Now ya can tell everybody ya don't need their damn charity rides."

Carol was struck by the comment.

"What do you mean?" Carol asked.

"The truck," Daryl said. "She's yours."

Carol turned her eyes off the road a minute, not really a big deal since they hadn't passed a car in some time, and looked at Daryl.

"Daryl, you can't give me a truck," Carol said.

"Sure I can," Daryl said. "Just did. It was my truck. I reckon I could do what I wanted with it."

"I couldn't accept it," Carol said.

"Ya ain't got no choice," Daryl said. "You the one that's drivin' it an' that's the law or somethin'. It's your truck an' I ain't takin' it back. Fixed it for ya."

"Why would you do that?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"I reckon I did it 'cause I wanted to," Daryl said. "Ain't that good enough reason ta do somethin'?"

Carol didn't know how to respond. She was speechless for so many reasons. She couldn't imagine someone just giving her a truck. Yet, it appeared that Daryl Dixon had done just that. He didn't seem to think it was negotiable either. She wasn't sure if he expected some kind of payment for it, or what he had in mind. No one had ever done anything like that for her and she was floored. She didn't know if there was some kind of protocol for something like this, but she'd never learned it.

Carol steered the old truck through and town and finally made it back to their parking lot, bringing the truck to a stop in one of the spaces. When she killed the engine and crawled out, Daryl came around to meet her and she tried to give him the keys back.

He reached out and balled her fist up in his, pressing the keys into her hand.

"Nope," he said. "I told ya, she's your truck. I fixed her just for ya an' if ya weren't ta take her now she wouldn't run no more. Trucks is funny that way. They know who they belong to, an' they don't always like ta keep runnin' once they feel like they ain't wanted," Daryl said. "So ya stuck with her."

Carol smiled.

"I really don't know what to say, Daryl," she said. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say, or what you want me to do."

"Well," Daryl said, "I reckon ya could say you'll take the damn truck, for starters. And a thank ya is always nice when someone gives ya somethin'."

Carol smiled, feeling tears brimming in her eyes.

"Thank you, Daryl. Thank you," she said.

Daryl grinned.

"Ya welcome," he said.

"Are you sure you don't want me to pay you for the truck?" Carol asked. "I know you don't make all that much working for Hershel…"

"Didn't cost me nothin'," Daryl said. "Hershel give me the truck ta fix for ya."

"What about for the work? You must have put time into it, and the parts?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled.

"Tell ya what, ya be real nice ta me, an' give me a kiss, an' we'll call it even," Daryl said.

Carol made a face at him.

"Daryl, a kiss for payment?" She asked. Daryl grinned.

"Now I expect it ta be a good one," Daryl said, "but that's what I want."

Carol smiled and leaned in to kiss him. His mouth met hers and she let him kiss her the way he wanted to. His hands wrapped around her and she felt him running both of them up and down her back as he pressed her to him, his tongue searching out her mouth. She held the kiss for a while, and when she finally pulled away, she realized she was breathing heavy. The kiss had been a "good one" as he'd called it, and her body had responded, even against her wishes, by wanting more.

As she looked into his eyes, she could see that he was feeling it too. He stood there a moment, his hands still on her back, looking down at her.

Then he cleared his throat and dropped his hands, turning quickly and stepping up onto the walkway that led to the building.

"Was that alright?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled.

"Pretty good," he said. "Truck might need some tune ups every now and again, though, so ya might have ta pay for those too."

Carol chuckled at him and grinned. He fell behind her a little and she felt his hand on the small of her back as he walked her toward the apartments.

Carol hoped she wasn't wrong, and she hoped she wasn't being overconfident or cocky, but it seemed to her like Daryl Dixon might be trying to woo her. She didn't have any real practice in the matter, Ed had certainly never been much for shows, but it seemed like Daryl's given preference for wooing came in the form of old time courting, and though Carol didn't know much about how it was supposed to go, she was liking what it promised to be.


	33. Chapter 33

"I'm a terrible person," Michonne lamented.

"Now explain, exactly, what's going to make you a terrible person?" Andrea asked. She was sitting across from Carol at Carol's kitchen table, painting Carol's fingernails a bright color of pink.

Michonne was sitting on a blanket on Carol's floor where she was currently changing Celine's diaper while Anjelica scooted around, entertaining herself with the handful of toys that Michonne had brought up for them.

"I had s-e-x with the bug man!" Michonne said. She turned her attention to snapping the onesie.

"Can the kids spell?" Andrea asked.

"No," Michonne said, but I Anjelica's starting to babble and the last thing I need is for her to start spouting mommy's business everywhere we go.

Carol laughed.

"I can't believe you did that, Michonne," Carol said. "I thought you were taking things slow with your Adonis?"

Michonne scooped Celine up, kissing at her neck while the little girl howled at her.

"I was…I don't know what happened. The girls were with Dean and I asked him if he wanted something to drink and the next thing I know…" Michonne said.

"When it's hot," Andrea said, "it's hot…that's all there is to it."

Michonne groaned and the baby laughed at her so she continued to make the noise, making the most dramatic facial expressions possible.

"You think it's hilarious that your mommy does things that she should not do! Should not do!" Michonne cooed.

"I don't think this makes you some kind of horrible person," Andrea said. "I mean you're both consenting adults. I assume that he was in on this, right? I mean you didn't rip his clothes off and f-"

"Andrea!" Michonne snapped.

Andrea rolled her eyes.

"You didn't f-u-c-k him like d-o-g in the backyard did you?" Andrea asked.

"You don't have to spell dog," Michonne said. "And no I didn't. We made it to the bedroom. Honestly I've never been one for the all over the place kind of action. I'm old fashioned."

"You sound pretty d-…d-a-m old fashioned," Andrea said.

"D-a-m-N," Michonne corrected.

"Is this a spelling test?" Andrea asked, directing her question to Carol.

Carol giggled.

"So you asked him over to look at your yard and invited him inside for something to drink? How do you go from that to THAT?" Carol asked.

Michonne shrugged. She was trying to make the baby stand on her feet, and the baby was far more interested in manipulating her position to get Michonne's hand in her mouth.

"I tricked him," Michonne said. "That's why I'm a horrible person. The man thought he was just coming to look at bugs and I tricked him. I knew the girls were going to be with Dean that day. It's like I planned the whole thing out in advance."

Andrea chuckled.

"The man came over to inspect some bugs and ended up inspecting something a little more _feline_," she said. "I guess he probably thought it wasn't a bad deal."

"Did you at least make him buy you dinner first?" Carol asked.

Michonne chuckled.

"No, but I did make us grilled cheese sandwiches afterwards. Does that count as dinner?" She asked.

"Carol Ann," Andrea said, "not everyone is quite as old fashioned as you are, you know. Some of us come in actual color these days instead of in black and white."

"Speaking of which," Michonne said, "how are things with you and Daryl?"

Andrea shot a quick, knowing glance at Michonne and Michonne smiled sweetly.

Carol was now blowing on her fingernails and not looking at either of them.

"They're fine," she said, "and we're not black and white either."

"Oh heavens no," Andrea said. "Last accounts I had they've worked their way all the way to some light necking in the hallway. Carol Ann better be careful or people are going to be passing notes about her in the hallway soon."

Michonne chuckled and Carol rolled her eyes.

"I don't want to rush into anything," Carol said. "I want to be sure of what I'm feeling and I want him to be sure of it too. If we just start going at it, then neither one of us will really know."

"Oh I know what I was feeling yesterday…" Michonne said.

Andrea snorted and Carol almost choked.

"Isn't that the truth?" Andrea said. "You know what you're feeling if everyone's doing it right…"

Carol shook her head and leaned her head against her hand.

"You're both terrible. I wasn't talking about that," she said. She was blushing without even meaning to. "I mean real feelings. Like what's supposed to happen next? I want to know what's going to happen next. Daryl doesn't even know that I know he slept with Mary Ann. I don't even know what that meant for him or if I'm some kind of phase for him."

"I don't think it's a phase," Andrea said. "The guy has eaten pancakes, without fail, every single morning since I moved in. Daryl is not a man of phases. He is a man of comfortable habit. The only reason he doesn't wear the exact same thing every single day is because I'm not loading all the d- d-a-m-N clothes up every single day and hauling them down to the laundry mat."

"So he's boring?" Michonne asked.

Andrea turned around in her chair, kicked her shoes off, and started painting her toenails with the same bright pink that she'd just finished coating Carol's fingernails with.

"Some would say boring," Andrea said. "I don't know if it's boring or not. I guess maybe consistent is the nice word? He likes what he likes and he doesn't see any damn reason to branch out if he's already got something that he likes. He's not the new and improved variety of man."

"Which is a good thing," Michonne offered. "You could do worse, Carol. Dean was the new and improved kind and he upgraded me just as soon as I downloaded these two."

"And Mary Ann?" Carol asked.

"And Shane?" Andrea countered.

"He asked me to go with him for ice cream," Carol said. "I already told you that nothing happened."

"And I can tell you that next to nothing happened with Mary Ann, and both of them would take back what happened if it worked that way, but it doesn't," Andrea said.

"What do you want me to do?" Carol asked. "We've been out to dinner twice this week. We went to see a movie. We've got the picnic coming up tomorrow. What more do you want?"

"It doesn't matter," Michonne said. "You do what you want to do. No one is pushing you, right Andrea?"

Andrea looked at her and then went back to painting her toes.

"What Andrea means to say is 'right'," Michonne finished. "You have to do things the way that makes you comfortable, and if Daryl's fine with things moving the way they are, then that's perfect. You deserve for something to work your way in a relationship."

Andrea rolled her eyes and looked at Carol.

"Just to let you know, the picnic tomorrow is at the lake," Andrea said.

"Daryl didn't say we were going to the lake," Carol said.

"That's because I don't tell Daryl things until he needs to know them. He and Merle work better if they have as little time as possible to process information. Keeps them from overthinking shit," Andrea said.

"Andrea!" Michonne snapped.

"Sorry…keeps them from overthinking poop. And speaking of which, I'm no expert but it looks like that one over there might be thinking about some poop herself," Andrea said, gesturing to Anjelica who had found herself a very private spot on the other side of the couch for the moment.

"Great," Michonne said. "I'm almost out of diapers, too. Looks like we all get to take a fun family vacation to the A and P today when I leave."

"It's almost like Disneyland, isn't it?" Andrea said, screwing the bottle on her nail polish. "You'll need your bathing suit tomorrow, Carol."

"I'm not going swimming," Carol said.

"You can't have a picnic at the lake and not go swimming," Andrea said.

Carol shrugged.

"I don't have a bathing suit," she said. "I never went swimming and Ed certainly wasn't going to take me anywhere wearing something like that."

Andrea narrowed her eyes.

"Fine, don't worry about it. I'll bring an extra one," Andrea said.

"I'm not sure I want to wear yours," Carol said. "I'm not comfortable in stuff like that. I'll be fine sitting it out."

"Help me out here, Michonne," Andrea said. "Would you go to the lake, with a guy you're sorta interested in…not to mention you've already had s-e-x with him…and not go swimming?"

"I slept with the bug man," Michonne answered.

She got up and started collecting together the girl's things.

"So there you have it, Carol, the jury has spoken. You'll wear one of my bathing suits tomorrow," Andrea said.

"Do you at least have something conservative?" Carol asked.

"I don't have black and white," Andrea said, "but I'll try to consider my audience."

"Well, Carol it's been fun," Michonne said, wrestling Celine up on her hip, "but I'm out of Anjelica's diapers so I've got to run. Andrea, it was nice seeing you again, glad you could stop by today and visit with us."

Andrea got up, slipping the polish into her pocket. She walked across the floor barefoot and took the bag of toys from Michonne.

"It was great to see you too," Andrea said. "I'll carry this out for you. I've got to go anyway. Carol and I have to work at the upstanding establishment the Watering Hole this evening. We'll be providing a fine drinking experience for the lovely patrons."

"You don't have shoes on," Carol said.

"Carol Ann, I was made to be barefoot and pregnant," Andrea responded. "Minus the pregnant part…"

Carol laughed and got up, following behind the two women. She scooped Anjelica up and carried her to the car for Michonne, staying a few steps behind Andrea who was trying to pretend that the asphalt wasn't cooking the bottom of her feet as she stood hopping from foot to foot while Michonne loaded the car.

Carol hugged Michonne before she got in the car and then laughed at Andrea who was hopping double time over the hot asphalt to make it back to the apartment building stairs.

"I didn't think you two were friends," Carol said, sounding more than a little confused as she followed Andrea up the staircase.

Andrea, not wanting to admit that Michonne had snuck by nearly once a day each day for the past week and a half just to talk about things with Carol and Daryl, just smiled a little.

"Yeah…I mean…we get along," Andrea said. "We haven't split up a best friend necklace yet or anything, but we get along."

Carol smiled.

"I can't believe she slept with Tyreese," Carol said.

"Stranger things have happened," Andrea said, opening the door to the apartment and deciding she'd get her shoes from Carol's apartment later. "See ya in about two hours. We can walk over together."

"Sounds good," Carol said with a sigh. "Should give me enough time to shower and work on talking myself into a good night at the Watering Hole."

"Any night we don't get barfed on will be a good night," Andrea said. She slipped into the apartment and closed the door behind her, hearing Carol do the same across the hall.


	34. Chapter 34

**AN: This one gets somewhat of a violence warning for anyone who is bothered by/gets triggered by that. As always, I try not to be too graphic, but I will throw you a warning just in case. **

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Andrea looked around one last time, not exactly sure what she was looking for, but it had become part of the locking up routine. She flicked the lights off and felt around in her pocket, patting her hip, to make sure that she'd actually picked up the keys instead of leaving them in the back which she very often did. Satisfied that all was turned off and the keys were in her pocket, she stepped out of the bar and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind her. Carol was standing on the sidewalk, leaned against the brick wall, waiting for her.

"Not a bad night," Andrea commented, wrestling the old key into the lock and pushing the door a few times to make sure it was really locked.

"It was really good for a Friday night," Carol responded. "Good tips and we didn't even need Rick and Shane to clear anyone out."

"Can't beat that at the Watering Hole," Andrea said with a chuckle. She pocketed the keys and turned, starting down the sidewalk with Carol in the direction of the dump they shared apartments in.

It was Friday night in Sweet Junction and the town was as busy as it got for the most part. Teenagers were out trying their parents' nerves, old timers were out pretending they were young, but for the most part the little town belonged to the drunks at this hour. Everyone that had spilled out of the Watering Hole was out and about now, and there were a number of passing cars as people from some of the even smaller towns in the area were out seeing what mischief they could get into.

In the distance, back toward town more, you could hear the hooting and hollering every now and again of a few drunk rednecks who were more than likely showing off for their women. It was some kind of tobacco and beer scented mating ritual.

"Sounds like town's pretty rowdy," Carol commented.

Andrea turned to watch a couple of passing cars speed by, one of which contained some asshole who thought it was flattering to hang out the window and catcall the two of them as they made their way down the dimly lit road and past a few of the falling in old buildings that had once house businesses and now housed rats and winos on their best days.

"Uggh," Andrea commented as the car passed by. "I hate when they do that. Has that ever worked in their favor?"

Carol chuckled.

"I'm sure somewhere some woman has gone running after car, begging them to come back and take her right then and there," Carol remarked.

Andrea hooted at her response.

Andrea could hardly process what was happening when Ed's form appeared out of the shadows just ahead of them and grabbed Carol.

"The hell you think you're doing, you little bitch?" Ed growled. "That's enough of this shit, you're going home with me."

Carol screamed and Andrea snapped out of her momentary shock. She realized, though, that she had nothing on her. She'd even given her purse to Merle before he left the Watering Hole earlier.

"Get the hell off of her, Ed!" Andrea yelled, at least hoping to draw some attention. She knew, though, that they weren't likely to draw attention. There was enough hooting and hollering going on closer to the center of town, where most of the people were, that no one would be paying attention to anything going on out here. She knew that Ed knew that too, and she cursed herself for not thinking about it.

Carol was fighting against Ed as best she could and Andrea threw herself into the fight, trying to pry his hands away from Carol.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Ed yelled. Andrea felt his hand make contact with her feet and she stumbled backwards trying not to fall. "This doesn't concern you! This is between me and my _wife_."

Andrea watched helplessly for a moment as Ed tried to drag Carol toward the street, presumably toward his vehicle, though she didn't know what it looked like or where it was parked. Carol was screaming and Ed continued his insults. Both of them hit the ground once and Ed gained his feet again, quicker than Carol.

"You started hanging around with trash, didn't you? Made you feel like some big shit? You still nothing!" Ed yelled as he continued his assault. Andrea didn't know what else to do, so she launched herself at his back, sinking her teeth into his neck, or his shoulder, she wasn't sure which. It was the most savage thing, perhaps, that she could do, but it was all she could think of at the moment.

Ed turned his attention, then, from Carol to Andrea and she wrapped her legs around him, trying her best to hold on as he clawed at her, trying to get her off his back.

When he finally succeeded, and she crashed to the ground, he kicked her and she worked to regain her feet, becoming aware that Carol was attempting to get his attention again.

"Andrea, go!" Andrea heard Carol yell. She hated to leave her, but she knew that the only way they were going to make it out of this was with some kind of help. She ran as fast as she could toward the apartment building and scrambled up the stairs.

She shoved the door open and screamed for Daryl and Merle.

"It's Ed," she panted out as urgently as she could. "Go! He's got her just down the street!"

Both of them bolted from the apartment, half dressed, and Andrea crossed the hall, her hands shaking. She found her key to Carol's apartment and tried to will her hands to be still long enough to get the lock open so she could call the police.

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Daryl wasn't exactly sure what was happening when he heard Andrea screaming. He'd come out of his bedroom just to see her busting in the door and it took a moment for him to even wrap his mind around the fact that she was forming words.

At first he'd been obviously distracted by the fact that there was a lot of blood on her face. It was the kind of thing that could distract anyone.

Then he'd let her words start to sink in and he realized what was happening. Ed was out there, and he had Carol. Daryl shot out of the apartment as quickly as he could, faintly aware that Merle was behind him. He didn't remember going down the steps, but he must have because his feet hit the sidewalk and he realized that he wasn't wearing any shoes. He was only wearing his shorts and hadn't bothered with anything else.

Daryl's feet pounded on the sidewalk. He knew he'd find them, simply because it was a straight shot, and in the distance he could hear the sounds of Carol screaming and Ed yelling too. At least the sounds let him know that Ed hadn't gotten away with her, and that spurred him on, though he was beginning to hate himself for his smoking habit.

When Daryl finally caught sight of them, or rather caught side of Ed's sloppy silhouette in the darkness, he slammed into the man, allowing Ed's form to be the breaks for all the momentum that he'd built up while running from the apartment. Ed hit the ground and Daryl landed on top of him, momentarily stunned but far less stunned than the man who'd broken his fall.

Nothing about the fight was choreographed or organized in the slightest. Daryl threw blind punches in the darkness and received them as well. Everything around him seeming to move in slow motion. Merle, at some point, joined the fight and the three of them gained their feet without Daryl remembering making a move to do so.

Daryl fell back a moment, so out of breath that he thought he might pass out. His world was growing even darker than could be explained by the lack of lighting in that area and he stopped his attack to try and suck in some of the night air, fully intending to launch back into the fight as soon as he no longer felt like the ground beneath his feet was a merry go round.

Beyond the blood pounding in his ears, Daryl could hear the grunts and yells of Merle and Ed as they continued in the struggled. He could hear the wail of sirens moving closer to him and he could hear the sounds of screaming and sobs, though he could no longer identify whether it was Carol or Andrea making the sounds.

Daryl was doubled over, his sides aching from a few well-placed punches, and his hands on his legs, just between his knees. He looked up to see Ed running and Merle behind him, though in the darkness Daryl only knew which was which because it wasn't likely at this point that Ed would be chasing Merle Dixon if he had made any attempt at escaping the scene.

Daryl pulled together what he could and tried to jog after his brother. Ed had gained some ground and was in a car now, the same one that he'd escaped in the last time that Daryl had tangled with him. Merle was yelling something, pounding on the side of the car, but Daryl knew that their opportunity had come to a close.

Ed pulled the car out and drove off, but moments later one of the squad cars that was issuing the howling noise of the siren flew directly past the scene and after him. Daryl turned, then and stumbled back to where the fight had begun, hoping to make sense of all the madness.

The flashing blue lights of another squad car, coupled with the flashing red lights of two ambulances, lit up the darkness around them. Daryl realized that even though he'd thought the fight had happened pretty much in exactly the same spot, apparently the three of them had covered some ground in the struggle. He slinked back, looking for Carol, but he couldn't find her. He could only, for the moment, find Andrea who was crying and talking in such a way that she was difficult to understand.

One of the police officers, who he recognized as Rick Grimes when he got closer, had an arm around Andrea and was attempting to decipher the language she was speaking in now.

"What happened here?" Rick asked, directing his question to Daryl then.

"Was Ed," Daryl said. When he tried to speak he realized he still couldn't breathe well and his hand went to his side where he was sure that he at least had one or two bruised ribs. "Was Ed," he repeated, feeling like an idiot because that was all that he could get out.

Daryl wondered briefly where Merle was, and he wondered how long they'd been out there. Part of him would have sworn the entire thing had only lasted a few minutes, but another part of him almost believed that they'd been at it for hours.

"Carol?" He spat finally.

"She's in the ambulance," Rick said. "She's going to be fine."

Daryl felt a hand on his shoulder that he roughly shrugged off before he realized that it belonged to the police officer that was trying to talk to him and trying to talk to Andrea who sounded like she was choking to death.

Daryl stood there on the sidewalk for a moment and watched, almost feeling completely confused, as Rick led Andrea toward the flashing red lights. One of the ambulances pulled out, the sirens still wailing, and Daryl's stomach sunk. He wondered if Carol was in the ambulance and was she alright. He wondered how far Ed had gotten, and if the other car had caught up with him yet.

Merle somehow magically appeared beside Daryl, spitting out curse words and asking questions that either weren't correctly formulated or Daryl couldn't focus on them enough to understand them.

"I think you should come with us," Rick said. "Let the medical team have a look at you."

Daryl's head was beginning to clear then, and he was beginning to breathe a little more regularly. Rick Grimes had magically appeared in front of him again, but he was missing Andrea now.

"I'm fine," Daryl said. "He got…he got a couple a' punches in, but I'm fine," Daryl tried to assure the man. "Merle?" Daryl asked, searching out his brother in the flashing lights that illuminated his space. "Ya alright?"

"Hell yeah I'm alright," Merle growled. "Son of a bitch gouged me in the fuckin' eye, but I'm damn near certain I broke his fuckin' jaw."

"Listen," Rick said, "you two need to come with us. We'll go to the hospital, let them check you out, and I'll get your statements. You're not in trouble here, I just need statements."

"Where's Carol?" Daryl asked. "I didn't see her, is she OK?"

Rick reached out and put his hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"They're taking her to the hospital, she's going to be fine. She'll beat us there by at least half an hour," Rick said. "I need you two to come with me."

Daryl nodded. He didn't care how he got to the hospital at this point, he just wanted to know for sure that Carol was alright. He wanted to see her with his own eyes. Daryl glanced toward the second ambulance, the one that sat there with its siren off and its garish red lights flashing around in circles. Men in uniforms were circling around it, all talking to one another, but it appeared that nothing exciting was taking place there. He watched a second as someone closed the doors to the back of it and one of the uniformed men came over and spoke to Rick, though Daryl couldn't make out anything of their hushed conversation.

The uniformed man returned to the ambulance and Rick turned back to Daryl.

"They're taking Andrea now," Rick said, in the same condescending voice that police officers always used when they wanted you to be calm about whatever crisis was taking place. "I'll drive you two."

"Fine," Daryl said. "I just wanna get there."

Rick nodded. He looked at both of them.

"Do you have clothes? Can we get you something or do you think you need more immediate attention?" Rick asked.

Daryl shook his head. He was sure he had some bruised ribs. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd scraped his legs up in his first fall with Ed, and he thought that Ed may have landed one or two good punches on his face, but he could tell immediately that he wasn't in any grave danger.

"I'm good, we got clothes at the apartment," Daryl said. "Ya alright, Merle?" Daryl asked. Merle was standing beside him, in a more clothed state than he was.

"I'm fine, damn it," Merle growled.

Daryl regretted for a moment that Merle was drunk. They hadn't been back at the apartment for more than a half hour from the Watering Hole. Daryl had maybe three shots, but Merle had put in a pretty steady night and Daryl hoped it wasn't going to count against him in this situation.

Daryl and Merle both followed Rick to his car. His lights off now, Rick drove them to their apartment building. Merle declared that the only thing he needed was shoes, so Daryl made his way up the stairs to get their clothes. The door to Carol's apartment was open when he got to the top of the stairs, and the key was stuck in the lock. Daryl reasoned that Andrea had called the police and probably the ambulances. He pulled the door shut, turned the key over in his hand a moment after locking the door, and stuck it in his pocket. He crossed the hall to his apartment, stepped inside and quickly found a shirt to pull on, and left carrying his shoes and Merle's shoes in his arm. He pulled the door shut and started down the stairs, heading back to the squad car.

As he let Rick Grimes shut him in the backseat beside his brother in keeping with protocol, he passed Merle his shoes.

"We was drinkin' 'fore all this happened," Daryl said, "but we weren't part a' startin' nothin'." He felt like if he could explain himself, maybe he'd be able to keep them from getting the lion's share of the blame in this.

Rick nodded his head in the front seat, directing the car in the direction that Daryl assumed the closest hospital must be, though he'd never seen one in Sweet Junction and thought that maybe they'd have to go somewhere else.

Daryl started to wrestle into his shoes. Merle almost had his own.

"Don't worry about it," Rick said. "The drinking is the least of our concerns right now and we have Andrea's testimony that the two of you were acting in defense of her and Carol after Ed started the fight. This isn't about trying to lay the blame on either one of you."

"Did the other guy catch him?" Daryl asked.

"Excuse me?" Rick asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"The other police officer, the one who was after Ed, did he catch him?" Daryl asked.

"I can't discuss that right now," Rick said, "but don't worry about it."

"Did'ja see Carol? Was she OK?" Daryl asked.

"She's going to be fine," Rick said.

Daryl hated officials of any sort and their textbook responses to anything. He'd learned a long time ago that they never told you any damn thing straight until they absolutely had to. Now that he was calming down, he was aching from the after effects of the fight. Merle sat calmly beside him, having spent a good deal of time in the back of squad cars, with his hand over his eye, not speaking. Apparently he thought it best to keep his mouth closed in this situation.

Daryl felt his stomach churn. He hoped they caught Ed. Part of him, deep down, hoped that Ed resisted arrest. The man had smelt like a straight up liquor cabinet, so the best of his senses weren't with him. Daryl hoped that he was belligerent enough, and that the other officer was hot headed enough, that somehow Ed Peletier ended his night in a body bag.

He didn't know how far away the hospital was, or how fast the ambulance with the siren travelled in comparison to them, but he hoped that when he got to the hospital he was going to get to see Carol and that nothing was going to be wrong.

They were supposed to be going on a picnic the next day. It was going to be a good day. It was going to be all about fried chicken, potato salad, and jars of sweet tea. They were all going to laugh and talk and he was going to flirt with her and try to convince her to kiss him in the truck on the way there. He wasn't supposed to be in the back of a squad car with his brother headed toward a no name hospital with his stomach churning in worry.


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: It has been pointed out that I made an error (besides the buckets of typos that I regularly make) in saying that Daryl didn't tell Carol the picnic was at the lake. The intention on my part was for him not to tell her, but since I had the other chapters already planned out, I slipped on that one. My apologies. He did tell her, but he wasn't supposed to. Bad Daryl.**

**Also, to address the worry that Daryl has a head wound, he does not. His inability to get his thoughts clear/process everything pristinely is driven by severe panic and overstimulation. It's a state that, if you've not been in it before, can make you feel like you have a head wound. I've been there, and it can almost be described as an out of body experience. **

**I'd also like to brag a little since I have found out that SAO loving mom had a Caryl contest and I won best OC in a Caryl fic for Alice from my fic Phantom Hearts! I know a lot of you hear read that fic too, so you'll see this more than once, but hey I might as well brag, I don't typically win things! **

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Daryl remembered the moment that he walked into the hospital why it was that he hated hospitals. They smelled like antiseptic. They smelled like bad news and they smelled like death. As soon as he walked through the large automatic doors behind Rick Grimes and the smell hit his nostrils he was sent mentally rolling back through time when he'd walked through similar doors behind another officer.

Merle had been beside him that day too, just behind him, and they'd been there to check on their mother. Their mother who their father had attacked in a drunken rage. Daryl suddenly felt the same fear that he'd felt then, his body almost quaking with it. Merle had been sober that day, but it had been one of the last days that his brother had spent without ingesting any kind of mind altering substance.

They walked up toward an admission desk where Rick Grimes leaned over the desk and talked to a woman with too much red lipstick on. Everyone around them talked in hushed tones. Those hushed tones that somehow masked all the words that no one wanted to hear.

Rick turned to both of them, his hand going out and touching Daryl's elbow. The memory that hung just around the edge of Daryl's brain at the moment was when the officer, standing beside a doctor that Daryl had never seen before and would never see again, quietly informed Daryl and Merle that their mother was gone. The asshole had finally succeeded in doing what the hell he'd been trying to do for years. He'd finally taken everything from her that he could.

Daryl's stomach churned and he felt like he was going to vomit. Apparently Merle knew what was happening, even in his somewhat drunken state, because Daryl felt his brother's hand close around the upper part of his arm.

"S'alright brothah," Merle said. Daryl knew that Merle was likely remembering the very same day that he was remembering. It was the last day they'd seen their mother alive, and it was the very last day they'd seen their father. Whether or not the man was alive or dead was irrelevant. For both the Dixon boys he had died right along with their mother that day.

Rick Grimes tried to figure out what was wrong, but Daryl got control of himself before Merle had to explain the situation. He didn't want to hear Merle say it any more than he wanted to remember it. He didn't want to explain to anyone why it was that for both of them beating a woman was the unforgiveable sin.

"Are you alright?" Rick asked, his face clouded in concern. Daryl straightened himself up and pushed back his feelings. He nodded.

"Carol?" He asked.

Rick nodded at him.

"You need to let them have a look at you both. They'll get you cleaned up and you'll know something as soon as we do. Her lawyer is on the way here. Just let them have a look at you," Rick urged.

Daryl's head was swimming, but he knew this drill. They weren't going to tell them anything. They'd give them no more information than their stupid little textbooks told them they could. It was masked behind all this legal mumbo jumbo, but what it boiled down to was they weren't going to find a single damn thing out.

Daryl watched as Merle submitted himself to going with some nurse in a white uniform, and he decided that he would follow suit. Eventually someone would tell them something, so in the meantime the least that they could do was placate them.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

When Daryl was finally "released" and able to stumble out into one of the waiting areas that they directed him too, he found Merle quickly. Around them were a few people sitting in the uncomfortable chairs, waiting for news, no doubt, on their loved ones.

Merle stood out like a sore thumb, and Daryl was sure that he did too. Merle looked fine, other than the fact that his hands were bandaged and he looked a little like a pirate with a patch over one eye.

"Ya OK?" Daryl asked, standing awkwardly in front of his brother. He looked around for familiar faces, but found none. He knew he should sit, but he felt too antsy to sit for the moment.

"Fine," Merle growled. Daryl could tell that his brother was much more sober now than he had been before.

"Ya eye gonna be OK?" Daryl asked.

Merle chuckled a little.

"Sit ya ass down, Derlina. Ain't nobody dyin' tonight princess," Merle said. "My fuckin' eye's gonna be just fine. The lil' bitch won't stop runnin', though, so they got it all covered up. By tomorrow fuckin' mornin' ain't gon' be me with problems."

Daryl scuffed his foot on the carpet. His ribs were bandaged and they'd cleaned up everything else, putting bandages over his knees which almost lacked skin altogether. Otherwise he would likely have a shiner, but no other lasting damage.

"Have ya heard anything?" Daryl asked.

Merle shook his head and leaned back in the chair that was almost too small for him. Daryl sighed and sat in the chair beside him, deciding that there was nothing for him to do besides just that.

"I give 'em my testimony," Daryl said.

"Me too," Merle said. Daryl wondered if it was the booze, coming down off the excitement, or meds, but something was making Merle too mellow for just such a situation.

"Andrea? Carol? Ya ain't seen nor heard nothin'?" Daryl asked. He looked around but at the moment he couldn't find Rick Grimes.

"All I know is they called Carol's lawyer an' the woman's comin' over. Ain't got no kin 'round here an' they ain't gon' tell us nothin' without a lawyer present. They done called Andrea's parents, but we ain't kin, so they ain't sayin' nothin' 'bout that an' they ain't released her yet," Merle said.

Daryl wasn't sure what surprised him more at this moment…the fact that Merle had paid enough attention to know all that, or the fact that Andrea had parents. He _knew_ that she'd had parents once upon a time, obviously…she hadn't been spontaneously spawned from the Earth or anything, but he just assumed her parents were dead, like his own.

Daryl was distracted a few minutes later when he saw the woman, Michonne or whatever her name was, that was Carol's lawyer come through the door. She was obviously not prepared to have to come to the hospital at this hour because she didn't exactly look as well put together as she normally did. As soon as he saw her, though, he also saw Rick Grimes again and she immediately began talking to him.

Daryl wanted to go over, reintroduce himself, and demand that she give him whatever information she was capable of obtaining because of her title, but he doubted that was really OK. He sat and waited while she chatted with Rick, trying not to pay much attention to her facial expression in case he might see something there that just made his night that much worse.

The next familiar face they saw was Andrea. A nurse walked her out, and led her over to one of the desks where she was signing papers of some sort. Daryl had signed a few things himself, but they'd brought everything to him. Apparently Andrea hadn't received the same service. Andrea turned then, scanning the waiting areas and Daryl waved at her a little, noticing that Merle seemed to have gone to sleep. Andrea pointed at him and the nurse walked her over to where he was.

"Thank you," Andrea said to the nurse as she took a seat beside Daryl. "I'm with them."

"She's had some pain medicine," the nurse said, "so she may be a little groggy."

Daryl grunted his understanding and turned his attention to Andrea. She was holding an ice pack to her face, and it was obvious that her eyelids were droopier than normal. He could see that one of her legs was bandaged too, and he had no idea why. There was blood dried into her hair, but he didn't know if it was hers or if she'd picked it up somewhere.

"Ya OK?" He asked, for what felt the millionth time that night.

"Yeah," Andrea said, softly. "I think I'll pull through."

She giggled a little and Daryl realized she was loopy from whatever they'd given her.

"Did you see Carol?" He asked. "Was she OK?"

Andrea stared at him for a second, her mouth open, making her resemble some sort of fish for the moment. Then she turned, her attention caught by something.

"Holy fucking hell," she grunted. "You've got to be kidding me. Who called my fucking parents?"

Daryl followed her gaze to an older couple that were standing at the desk nearby. He glanced around, noticing that the lawyer and Rick Grimes had both vanished again. The older couple was looking around like they were lost, but Daryl noticed the exact second when they found Andrea sitting beside him. They started over and Andrea groaned. Daryl didn't know what else to do, so he put his arm around her shoulder.

"Andrea? Oh my God!" The woman said. "What happened to you? I knew something like this was going to happen. Do you see now why nothing good can come of you working at that bar like that?"

Andrea groaned again. Daryl wasn't sure if he should say something or do something.

"Is this the kind of life you want for yourself?" The man said. "Ending up in bar brawls?"

"It wasn't a bar brawl and I wish you weren't here," Andrea moaned out. Daryl kept his arm around her shoulder, watching what was taking place, momentarily distracted from his worries.

"Andrea," the woman said, "what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that there was a man attacking my friend," Andrea said.

"What kind of friends are these, Andrea, that they're going to land you in the hospital?" The woman asked.

"Jesus Christ!" Andrea said. She turned to Daryl. "I keep blinking but they won't go away. Can you make them go away?"

Daryl shook his head.

"Who is this? Who are you?" The man asked.

"Daryl Dixon," Daryl said.

"Who is this, Andrea?" The man asked.

"This is Daryl and that's Merle," Andrea said. "I live with them, not that you'd know that."

"These ya parents?" Daryl asked.

Andrea looked at him, one of her eyes covered by the melting ice pack.

"Depends," she slurred, "on your definition of parents. This man here…this handsome, robust gentleman, impregnated my mother…and then he left. He came back later…much later…and he brought this lovely woman who has less tie to me than you do, Daryl. Don't worry, though, I've got a half of a sister…and she's a real fuckin' trophy."

"Get up, Andrea," the man commanded. "You're not going to disrespect your mother that way! You're going home with us. You can't continue to live this way."

Andrea chuckled.

"She's not my mother," Andrea said. "Or did you forget, DAD? My mom drank herself to death…'member that? 'Cause I do. It was fun watching it happen…but you weren't there to see it, were you? Go home and play house with Amy. They shouldn't have called you."

The man reached out, grabbing Andrea's arm and Daryl clapped his hand around the man's wrist.

"Don't touch her," Daryl said, shaking his head at the man, his voice calm.

"This is my daughter," the man said, "and I don't know who you are, but I'll take her home if I want to."

"I don't reckon ya takin' her home," Daryl said, "'cause I know where the hell she lives an' I don't expect ta see ya there."

Andrea didn't say anything, but Daryl felt her rest her head against his shoulder and he didn't say anything to her.

The man stared at him for a moment, looking as though his blood was boiling. After a moment, though, he took the arm of the woman next to him.

"Just like your mother," the man said. He turned and without another word he led the woman away. Daryl didn't watch them go, but he assumed they left. He felt, with no certainty, that perhaps they'd left for good. Somehow he didn't think Andrea was going to mind too much.

"They gone," Daryl said after a minute. He elbowed Merle who was beginning to snore beside him. Andrea sat up.

"Thank you," she said. Daryl realized there were tears in her eyes, but he wasn't going to draw attention to them.

"Don't mention it," he said. He wanted to ask her again about Carol, but he decided that she probably wasn't in the best condition to have a conversation. She looked like she was fighting to stay awake at all, and on top of that he could see that seeing the man and woman hadn't made for the best of nights. "Just lay ya head back down," Daryl said with a sigh. "I'll wake ya up if anything happens."

Andrea did put her head back against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around, making sure that when she fell asleep, she wouldn't roll off and hurt herself anymore.

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Michonne's head was throbbing from lack of sleep and from dealing with everyone in the hospital. She finally rounded the corner to the waiting room after what felt like hours of listening to people talk, and she saw what she could only consider the "welcome wagon" holding down three of the flimsy waiting room chairs.

Daryl sat in the middle, his head tilted back a little against the wall. Merle was beside him, on the verge of flopping to the side, and snoring softly. Andrea was on the other side, clearly dead to the world, and leaned against Daryl's chest, very obviously sliding little by little. It wouldn't be long, Michonne thought, before Merle flopped across a few extra chairs and Andrea ended up with her head in Daryl's lap.

Michonne rubbed her eyes and walked toward the three of them. She decided that if any of them were responsive in the slightest, or even had the foggiest idea where they were and why they were there, it would be Daryl.

"Daryl?" Michonne said, hoping not to startle him. "Are you awake?"

Daryl stirred a little, sitting up and blinking at her. He might not have been sleeping with the same abandon as the other two, but Daryl Dixon hadn't been awake.

"Carol?" He asked.

Michonne did her best to smile at him.

"She's going to be alright," Michonne said.

"Ya just sayin' that like everybody else, or she really gonna be OK?" Daryl asked. Michonne wondered, for a moment, how many times he'd heard that tonight. She forgot, from time to time, that as a lawyer she tended to get a lot more information much more quickly than other people.

"She's going to be alright," Michonne said. "I'm not going to lie, it's not pretty, but it's not fatal. She's resting now under sedation. They might let her go in a couple of days."

Michonne reached back and tugged at the muscles of her shoulders.

"What happened to her?" Daryl asked, his voice groggy.

"Ed happened to her," Michonne said with a sigh. There are more than a handful of minor injuries, but the worst is possible head trauma. They're not sure exactly what happened, but the best guess is that he tried to slam her into something…"

"I wanna see her," Daryl said.

Michonne shook her head.

"Not right now," she said. "She's out anyway, Daryl. I was just back there. They're putting her in a room for observation. She's too heavily sedated to even know if you were there or not. It's better for you all to go home. I'll keep a check on her and let you know if there's anything that she needs or anything that can be done."

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't goin' nowhere," he said, "'til I see her."

"Daryl, you can't see her right now. They're putting her in a room and it's not visiting hours. You're not family," Michonne said with a sigh. "Tomorrow, maybe, when she's in a regular room then you can visit her."

"You ain't her family neither," Daryl said.

"No, but I'm her attorney," Michonne said, "and this is part of a domestic violence case."

"They get Ed?" Daryl asked.

Michonne realized her eyes were killing her. She rubbed at them, wishing that he'd go home and stop asking questions. She just needed a few hours of sleep and she could deal better with this.

"Not yet," Michonne said, "or not that I've heard. They're going to get him, though. Ed's going to prison for this, and he's going for a very long time."

"Prison's too damn good for him," Daryl said, his head lolling to one side a little as he focused on her. She noticed Andrea sliding a little more in her descent toward Daryl's lap.

"I'll give you that," Michonne said, "but it's what we have right now." She paused for a minute. "Now, Daryl, you really need to go home. Both Merle and Andrea are sedated, they need to rest. I can drive you home…help you as best I can to get them to bed. There's nothing that anyone can do here tonight."

"Can I see Carol tomorrow?" Daryl asked.

Michonne nodded.

"You can come up here tomorrow and see her," Michonne said. "They shouldn't give you any trouble, but I've got to come up here anyway so I'll come with you and make sure that they don't bother you."

"Fine," Daryl said finally. "I'll go home, then, but only 'cause ya ain't gon' let me see her if I don't."

"Thank you," Michonne said. "Everything's going to look a lot better to us all tomorrow."

She looked, then, at the other two.

"Daryl, how are we going to get them home?" She asked.

Daryl shoved Merle and Merle snorted and woke up.

"Fuck's ya problem?" He growled.

"Get up," Daryl said. "Ya gotta take ya drugged ass ta the car. We goin' home an' ya can sleep it off there."

Michonne expected Merle not to be able to go with them of his own free will, but he got to his feet and nodded his head at her, smiling a little.

"Well evenin' princess," he drawled.

"We're going home in my car," Michonne said, realizing she had to move the baby seats to the trunk to make room for her new passengers.

Merle nodded and stretched. Without waiting for further instruction, he started toward the door. Daryl was wrestling to his feet then, stretching one arm and holding Andrea up with the other.

"Is he going to be OK?" Michonne asked.

Daryl half smiled at her and she recognized, for the first time, that the brothers had the same smile.

"Merle's used ta bein' mobile when he's outta his skull," Daryl said. "He ain't gon' have no problems."

"What about Andrea?" Michonne asked.

Before she could fully get the question out, Daryl turned and heaved Andrea into his arms.

"Reckon she needs her sleep," Daryl said. "Just point the way ta the car an' she'll make it there."

Michonne sighed and started out the hospital. Merle had stopped by the door, waiting on them. He didn't become mobile again until Michonne passed by him. Then she stepped out into the night air, leading her odd little caravan behind her.


	36. Chapter 36

Daryl was waiting downstairs when Michonne pulled into the apartment parking lot to pick him up. He tossed what was left of his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with his shoe before making his way to her car and crawling in the passenger seat.

Michonne looked tired, but Daryl decided not to say anything. It had been a long night and no one needed you calling attention to their physical appearance after a night like they'd all had.

"Well," Michonne said as he buckled his seatbelt and she pulled out of the parking lot, "they caught Ed. Some boys from a neighboring police force helped out and they ran him off the road in a field somewhere before Bakersville. He's locked up at county now and their pushing not to allow him bail."

Daryl grunted in response.

"I hope the fucker gets the shit beat out of him in there…every fuckin' day," he growled.

Michonne chuckled a little.

"Apparently he got the shit beat out of him last night. The four of you really roughed him up from the description I was given. They're filing the injuries under self-defense, though, and I imagine a few of the officers had their fun and decided not to report the extra injuries as officer inflicted," Michonne said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Good. I hope ta hell they gave it ta him good. Whatever he got weren't enough, I can tell ya that," Daryl said.

"Jaw fracture, cheek fracture, broken nose…" Michonne said. "The list was impressive. Which one of you decided you're giving the cannibal lifestyle a try? Apparently someone bit a sizeable hunk out of his left shoulder and came close to puncturing some important areas."

Daryl snorted.

"That'd be Andrea," he said. "She's been bitchin' all mornin' 'bout her jaw achin' an' her teeth bein' sore. Reckon she weren't accustomed ta tryin' ta eat people."

Michonne chuckled a little.

"Now, when we get there, I'll go in first," Michonne said. "I've got to talk to a couple of people while we're there, so I'll let Carol know you're there and you can sit with her while I take care of business, that fine with you?"

"However we gotta do it," Daryl said. He wiped his palms on his jeans, aware that he was already nervous. He didn't know what to expect exactly, and he didn't know what he was going to say, but he knew that he wanted to see her, so that's what he was going to do.

"Daryl," Michonne said after a second, "I don't know what she's going to look like today, but try…well just try not to…you know…make her feel uncomfortable."

Daryl knew what people looked like after they'd gotten the shit beat out of them. He'd seen it so many times in his life, in varying degrees, that he thought he was damn well prepared for anything. Hell, he'd even seen his own reflection this morning and he'd seen Merle and Andrea too. They weren't winning any awards for most attractive household today, and not likely for quite some time.

"Wouldn't do that," Daryl said.

"I didn't think you would," Michonne said, "but I wanted to make sure. She needs to just focus on the fact that the wounds will heal."

"Yeah…" Daryl said. "The ones on her face might, but that asshole's done a lotta motherfuckin' damage, ya can bet ya damn tits on that."

Michonne didn't respond, but she cleared her throat and they drove along in silence. Daryl hadn't realized he was correct the night before, but they were leaving Sweet Junction to get to the hospital.

Daryl thought about it and the more he thought about the whole situation the more he felt his insides churning into what felt to be a hot ball. He'd seen abuse his whole life, but just because you were accustomed to it didn't mean that it made it any easier to swallow or any easier to understand. What he did know, though, was that of all the people he'd known who had suffered at the hands of others, it wasn't their external scars that showed so much. He knew that Merle had issues, and he knew that he had issues, whether or not he had words to describe either of them. There was something you could see in the face of a person who had been treated badly like that, and no matter how hard they tried to hide it, it was there sometimes. Daryl had seen that look last night in Andrea's face, and he'd seen it before in Carol's. He just hated knowing that today he'd see it again, but it would be even worse than it had been before.

When they finally got to the hospital, Daryl followed Michonne inside. He was hit with the same smell as he had been overwhelmed with the night before, but somehow the light of day and the fact that he was walking a few steps behind the lawyer who smelled like coconut and perfume, made the smell attack his senses a little less.

Michonne stopped and spoke to a lady at the desk who had replaced the woman with the red lipstick from the night before. Daryl lingered near a potted plant and watched her, reaching his hand out and breaking the tip off the plant to see if it was real or not.

"Daryl?" Michonne said, getting his attention. He looked at her. She handed him a sticker and stuck one to her own shirt, so he followed suit.

They didn't speak, but he followed her through the hospital and onto the elevators, waiting quietly as she steered them in the direction of the room. He was growing more and more nervous as they went, though he wasn't really sure why. He was worried that he wouldn't be able to breathe by the time they'd actually found the door that the hospital hid Carol behind.

When they got to the room, Michonne whispered at him to wait and she'd tell him when to come in. She passed into the room and Daryl lingered outside, peeking around the door jamb. He could clearly see Michonne as she circled around and sat in a little chair by the bed, but he could only barely see one side of Carol's face since she was obviously asleep and her head had lolled in the direction where Michonne was now sitting.

Daryl watched the two women and almost immediately he realized something that he'd never really paid attention to before. Michonne was Carol's lawyer, yes, but there was something else there. There was a tenderness there that he hadn't noticed before when she saw and carefully picked up Carol's hand. He almost felt guilty, for some reason, for watching them.

"Carol, sweetheart, can you wake up?" Michonne asked. Daryl watched and even though he couldn't see Carol, he assumed she must have woken up because Michonne smiled at her. "How you feeling?"

Carol mumbled something, but Daryl couldn't hear her words as clearly as he could the lawyers. She said something about hurting and he felt his heart clench a little and he felt the returning anger at Ed that he tried to swallow down, attempting to convince himself that even as they were sitting there Ed was getting pounded on by some asshole in the clink named Bubba who thought it was a shitty thing to land there for beating a woman. Daryl sent his silent support to Bubba and wished he knew where to mail the fucker cigarettes for all the beatings he was going to imagine him giving Ed.

"When's the last time you had something?" Michonne asked. "You've got a button, see?" Daryl watched as she moved some things around. "You just keep pushing it and it'll give you the pain medicine when you need it."

Daryl watched as Michonne pushed the button and sat there a moment, petting Carol's hand. Carol said something and Michonne smiled and nodded. Carol mumbled again and Daryl couldn't make it out, but Michonne shook her head.

"I didn't bring it with me, but it doesn't matter," Michonne said. "Listen, Carol, there's someone here to see you, OK? Daryl's here and he's going to sit with you because I've got to talk to your doctors and make some phone calls. Can you let him sit with you?"

Daryl held his breath a minute. His turn was coming up and he wasn't any more prepared for it than he had been when he got in the car. Michonne seemed to know what she was doing. She knew how to talk to Carol. He wasn't sure he did.

"Daryl?" Michonne called. He took another deep breath and stepped into the room. Carol turned to look at him a little and he tried not to focus too much on the multicolored injuries on her face. He wasn't going to make her feel self-conscious about them, somehow. Michonne got up and put her hand on Daryl's shoulder, leaning in to speak to him so that her breath tickled his ear.

"She's on some very heavy meds right now, so just know that," she said. Daryl nodded his head a little and took his place in the chair that Michonne had been sitting in while the lawyer let herself out of the room.

Daryl sat there, swallowing and trying to figure out what to do with himself. Carol looked at him, silent for the moment.

"He hurt you," Carol said. Daryl's head snapped up, though he was still trying to figure out how to respond to anything. He remembered, all of a sudden, that he had a black eye and there was a bruise on his chin that Andrea had teased him about, saying it made him look like he was growing a purple beard. He couldn't believe, though, that she was going to ask him about that when he was just sitting there realizing that the reason the lawyer had only been touching her hand was because it was one of the few places that you would think you could touch without hurting her.

"I'm good," Daryl said. "Nothin' big. How you feeling?"

He didn't know if it was the right question or not, but he didn't have anything else to go with. Carol sighed and tried to smile at him a little.

"I've had better days, honestly," she said.

Daryl nodded his head.

"They got him, though, an' apparently the four a' us, we like some kinda street fightin' dream team," Daryl said, hoping to lighten the mood a little. Carol did smile a little, so he thought he wasn't doing too bad. "We damn near killed him…woulda but he had a car."

"Andrea? Is she OK?" Carol asked.

"She's just fine," Daryl said. "They give her somethin' that I think she was allergic to or somethin' like that so she started seein' shit last night an' it was pretty funny. Merle was outta his skull so I moved her ta my room and she barfed on me an' felt better after that. Even made pancakes this mornin' ta say she was sorry for ralphin' on me."

Carol snickered.

"You and your pancakes," she said. "Don't you ever get tired of them?"

Daryl picked up the little button thing that Michonne had held when she was sitting there. He ran his fingers around and pushed the button again. He didn't really know how it worked, but he figured he'd keep hitting it to make sure she felt as good as they were going to let her feel. He was still nervous about touching her, but finally he slid his hand under hers, careful not to squeeze it since he could see they had an I.V. in that one.

"No," he said. "I like 'em." He shrugged a little not knowing what else to say. "I like 'em an' she don't mind makin' 'em, so I don't get tired of eatin' 'em…"

Carol moaned a little and Daryl looked at her. She looked like she was getting tired, but she didn't look like she was in too much pain, so he didn't say anything.

"What else do you like Daryl?" She asked.

Daryl assumed they were still talking about breakfast. He shrugged a little more, bringing his free hand up to trace along the fingers of her hand that was resting on top of his.

"I like them little sausages too," he said. "The skinny, long one, not the ones that look like lil' bitty hamburgers."

Carol sighed.

"But what else do you like?" Carol asked. "You like pancakes…and sausage links…" She stopped a minute to yawn lightly, grimacing a little at the action. "And you like fixing cars…and smoking...but what else?"

Daryl thought about it, letting his finger trail up the inside of her arm over the soft skin there, drawing little patterns while he searched for something to say. He didn't really know if he liked a lot of things…or maybe he liked nearly everything and that's why nothing was coming to him. He didn't really know how to answer the question though. He could think of a lot of things he liked, but nothing seemed really special or important. There was nothing worth mentioning.

"Don't know," Daryl said finally. "I reckon I like a lotta things. Lotta things I don't know I like 'til they right there an' then I just kinda know that I like 'em."

He continued to trace patterns on the inside of arm, letting his finger trail almost to the crook of her arm and then back down to her palm.

"I like you," he said.

Carol snickered again and he noticed her eyes were closed.

"I'm serious," she said.

"I'm serious too," he responded.

Carol sighed and he figured she was going to sleep. He stopped drawing the patterns then and pushed the little button again.

"Don't stop," Carol said. Daryl looked at her. Her eyes were still closed, but she had more of concerned look on her face than she had before. He wasn't sure what he wasn't supposed to stop doing.

"What?" He asked.

"Don't stop," she mumbled.

"Stop what?" He asked.

"The thing you were doing on my arm," she said. "Don't stop…I like it…"

Daryl chuckled to himself and returned to running his fingertip up and down the inside of her arm. He sat there quietly, unsure if he should speak or not. Eventually her breathing evened out, and he knew she was asleep, but he continued rubbing just in case, pausing only every once in a while to push the button again and see if he could coax it to give out more of the medicine.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 1

Michonne knew that she'd been gone longer than she originally intended, but sometimes it took forever to get calls through. She'd ended up on hold so many times, pacing back and forth outside the front of the hospital for so long, that she was sure half the people working there thought she was an expectant father or something.

She saw Carol's doctor again and pulled the man aside to see if he had any more information for her, but it was limited to just a slight update from what she'd already heard. At this point they'd reached the land of hurry up and wait. Everything was technically being done, but nothing offered the instant gratification that she would have appreciated.

As she made her way back to Carol's room, she hoped that she hadn't left Carol and Daryl alone for too long. She didn't know how he would hold up in a room with nothing to do, especially since Carol was likely to be out of it more than she was with him, and she hadn't exactly told him how long they'd be visiting for.

When she rounded the corner and stepped into the doorway, though, she stopped herself for a moment. Carol was obviously asleep, and Daryl didn't look to be too terribly far behind. The poor guy was obviously bored out of his mind and at the moment was mashing Carol's pain medication button like it was some kind of joystick for a video game.

Michonne chuckled a little as she stepped into the room.

"It's set on a timer," she said. "It doesn't matter how many times you hit it, it won't give her anymore unless it's time. It's to keep people from overdosing themselves in the quest for sweet release."

Daryl turned and half smiled at her.

"Yeah, well, I figured it was prob'ly somethin' like that, but it didn't seem ta hurt nothin' so I figured I'd catch it when it decided ta spit some more out," Daryl said.

"How has she been?" Michonne asked. "I'm sorry it took me so long. People don't want to answer their phones when they know you're actually calling about something."

"She's been OK, I reckon," Daryl said. "She's slept most the time. A doctor come in here an' done some kinda tests with her, but he ain't really said nothin'."

Michonne nodded.

"They were worried about brain injury," Michonne said. "It appears, though, that everything is fine. Thank God for the little things. They're going to release her tomorrow. She's not going to be able to stay on her own at first because she'll be on some pretty good medication, but I'll take her home with me."

Michonne wasn't expecting Daryl's face to change quite like it did. He looked very concerned for the moment.

"She can stay at her place," he said. "I could stay with her."

Michonne sighed.

"Daryl, she needs to take it easy for a bit…she just needs to relax and focus on feeling better," Michonne said.

"So?" Daryl asked. "I could watch out for her."

"You have to work, Daryl," MIchonne said. "I know the kinds of conditions you and your brother and Andrea live in. I know you need the money from all of your jobs."

"I could take a lil' bit a' time off," Daryl said. "I bet Hershel would understand."

Michonne wondered why he was arguing about this. She thought about it for a few minutes and decided to take a chance that her suspicions might be right.

"I'm not holding her hostage, Daryl," Michonne said finally. "You could come and visit her at my house when you get off work if that would make you feel better. I _can_ work from home. You can't do that exactly. It's going to be much easier for me to be there for her than it would be for anyone who has to go into work."

Daryl finally nodded and Michonne could see that he was rubbing Carol's hand.

"Fine," he said. "I'll come an' visit her then."

"It won't be for long," Michonne said. "Probably a week and she'll be good enough to stay on her own. She'll still have to take it easy, but she'll want to go home as soon as she can. They're going to start weaning her to other medications soon, and then tomorrow you can ride with me up here to pick her up if you want to and you don't have to work."

Daryl nodded again.

"Are you ready to go?" Michonne asked. She figured he'd be anxious to go and glancing at her watch she could see that it wouldn't be too long before she'd either have to pick the girls up from daycare or call the neighbor to do it. Carol was sleeping and she'd probably stay that way for the most part. Daryl looked at her, though, like she'd just asked him if he was ready to face a firing squad.

"Ya mean ya just gon' leave her?" Daryl asked.

Michonne raised her eyebrows at him.

"Daryl, we've been here for a while. How long did you intend to stay?" She asked, looking at her watch.

"I don't know," Daryl said. "She wanted ta go home earlier."

"Daryl, they've got her loaded up on enough morphine that I don't even know if she actually knows what she wants right now," Michonne said, "but they're not letting her go until tomorrow morning at the earliest…whenever the doctor can get in here to release her."

"So she's just gonna be here alone?" Daryl asked. "She don't like it here an' I can't blame her. Hospitals ain't no fun, an' it's even worse if ya ain't got no one with ya."

Michonne shook her head. She could understand that, and she could somewhat sympathize with it. She'd been lucky enough that the only time she'd been in the hospital was when her girls were born, and those had been short visits. Dean had been with her almost the whole time with Anjelica, but if it hadn't been for the nice nurses she'd have been alone the whole time with Celine.

She supposed, though, that those experiences and what Carol was going through were very different. At least then, for as miserable as she'd been, she did have her new arrivals to keep her company and make up for the bad parts.

Still, she couldn't just _stay_ at the hospital. As much as she might have liked to do so, she did have the girls and she was all they had to really rely on.

"Daryl, I've got to pick up my girls," Michonne said. "I can't just leave them with people all day and all night. Carol's going to be fine and she's going to be here tomorrow morning when we pick her up."

Daryl shook his head.

"Ya just pull out'cha phone there an' ya get someone ta go an' tell Andrea an' Merle I'm not comin' home right now," Daryl said.

"Daryl, they're going to run you out of here at nine anyway," Michonne said.

Daryl shrugged.

"Then when ya talk ta 'em ya tell one of 'em ta be waitin' outside ta pick me up at nine an' I'll come out an' meet 'em," Daryl said. "Ain't neither one of 'em workin' today so they won't care."

Michonne sighed. She walked over to the bed and ran her hand across Carol's right hand, the one that Daryl wasn't holding. She didn't stir. She was out for all intents and purposes.

"OK, Daryl, I'll get in touch with them," Michonne said.

Daryl smiled and went back to playing with the joystick.

"Would you like me to bring you something from the gift shop, Daryl? A magazine? A comic book? Some snacks or something?" Michonne asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"I'm good," he said.

"Alright then," Michonne said. She turned and started out the door, surprised at how dedicated Daryl was to this mission. She turned just before she stepped out. "What are your feelings about green shutters on houses?" She asked.

Daryl looked at her, his eyes off the button he was clicking for just a moment.

"Huh?" He asked.

Michonne snickered.

"Nothing, Daryl. Take care of her. Someone will be here at nine and I'll see you in the morning," Michonne said.

Daryl nodded.

"Night," she heard him call just as she started down the hallway.


	37. Chapter 37

Daryl had essentially been evicted from Carol's room at nine on the dot. She'd been awake a few times while he was there, never for too very long, and he'd seen a number of doctors and nurses who gave him very little information. Some of the nurses had been nice, though, and had treated him like he was supposed to be there, leaving him to help her with her dinner and letting him know that if she needed more of the pills they gave her after they took away the morphine that he could ask them if it was time for them.

Daryl was standing outside now, smoking a cigarette and searching the parking lot with his eyes. He'd done a once around and knew that no one was there to pick him up yet, but he assumed that someone would eventually come.

Daryl decided, when he was done with the first cigarette, to smoke another. He entertained himself by trying to balance on the curb with half his feet over the side. Merle and Andrea were both famously late, and apparently tonight was no different than usual.

Daryl thought about Carol while he was out there. He'd woken her up a little before he left to let her know that they were running him out, but that he and Michonne would be back in the morning. She'd mumbled something to him and thanked him for staying with her, but he was pretty sure that she was back asleep before he left the room. He hoped she slept through the night so she wouldn't be awake and alone later.

Finally Daryl saw Andrea's Pontiac pull into the parking lot. She pulled almost to the curb and he swung open the passenger side door.

"Lookin' for a date?" Andrea asked.

Daryl got in the car without responding to her and buckled up.

"Ya late," he said.

"Yeah well, shit happens," Andrea said. She reached in the back seat and flung a greasy paper bag into his lap. "Picked ya up some dinner. Figured you probably ate shit all day if you ate anything at all."

Daryl looked at the grease soaked back that very likely contained something like a burger and fries.

"An' this ain't shit?" He asked, grinning at Andrea and opening the bag to see what his prize was.

"Well it's not Christmas dinner, but it's better than something out of a vending machine," Andrea said.

Daryl wasn't arguing, of course. He hadn't actually eaten much of anything. He'd finished some of the food that was left over after Carol had eaten her fill from one of the trays, but the shit had tasted terrible and he'd decided he wasn't that hungry.

"Where's Merle?" Daryl asked, his mouth full.

"Merle is at home, being Merle," Andrea said. "Said something about how he wasn't riding all the way out here when you could have gone home with Michonne. So I'm your chariot."

"Thanks for pickin' me up," Daryl said.

"No worries," Andrea responded. "I'm sure Carol appreciated the company."

Daryl chucked and crammed a few of his fries in his mouth. When he'd swallowed them he spoke.

"I don't think she knew I was there half the time," he said.

"All the same," Andrea said, "it was very Hershel of you to stay."

Daryl chuckled again.

"I'da wanted somebody ta stay if'n it was me," Daryl said.

Andrea grunted.

"I hate hospitals," she said. "I'd have wanted someone to stay too, but Merle wouldn't do that shit. He'd have dropped by…maybe…and then when he saw everything was alright, he'd have left. The only reason he stayed last night was because he didn't have any other choice."

Daryl knew that Andrea was probably right. Merle wasn't one that was going to sit with you for a while just so you felt better about your situation. Merle was more the one to check on you, make sure you weren't likely to bleed out in the next few minutes, and then tell you to suck it up and deal with it.

It was different with Carol, though. Daryl liked being with Carol, whether she was awake or not, and he didn't like knowing that she was in pain or scared. If him or anyone else being there would help that some, then he'd rather know that somebody was there. He didn't know if that was really a Hershel and Miss Jo kind of thing as Andrea would say it was, but it was just how he felt. He didn't know if Merle had ever had anyone in his life that he liked being around that much. He wondered, had it been Andrea, would Merle have really just blown her off, or would he have surprised them and stayed?

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Daryl felt like he'd waited with Michonne for hours for them to finally release Carol. He'd begun to grow quite bored with waiting, but there wasn't really anything to do, so he'd sat and tried to entertain himself by counting things in the waiting area and by watching the people around him. He was trying to figure out, for his own entertainment purposes, why everyone was there and who they were waiting on.

When they'd finally released Carol, they'd brought her out in a wheelchair. She'd smiled at both of them, though she still seemed groggy. Daryl waited quietly with her until Michonne finished signing things, and then he pushed the wheelchair out the door and to Michonne's car.

Daryl helped Carol into the passenger seat of the car and Michonne returned the wheelchair while Daryl climbed into the backseat to wait on her. When she got back, they were finally headed back toward Sweet Junction. Daryl had already said that he was staying the rest of the day to help Carol get settled in at Michonne's since Hershel had given him the whole day off.

At Michonne's house, where Daryl had never been before, Michonne got the suitcase out the back that Andrea had packed for Carol. Daryl helped Carol out the car and supported her while Michonne got the house open and led them inside. He took Carol, per Michonne's instructions, to the couch and helped her get comfortable.

"I'm not an invalid," Carol said, as Daryl tucked the pillow under her head that Michonne had brought her.

"Hush up," Daryl said. "Ain't nobody said ya was."

To prove his point, he tossed her blanket at her and stood over her, watching her trying to unfold it. He couldn't stand watching it, though, so he finally took it from her and spread it over her.

"Looks like you've got quite the nurse," Michonne said, appearing from the kitchen with a glass of water. She walked over the Carol and dropped some pills into her hand. "I'm supposed to give these to you now."

Carol obediently took the pills.

"I don't know what to do with both of you staring at me like that," Carol said.

"Well, I'm not going to be staring at you any longer," Michonne said. "I've got some work that I've got to do so I'm going to slip into my bedroom and get on that. There's television, movies, books, whatever you want. If you don't know where something is, just ask me."

"Can I have a mirror now?" Carol asked.

Michonne shook her head and shot a look at Daryl shaking her head again.

"You look fine," Michonne said. "You don't need a mirror."

"The fact that you've kept me away from them tells me that I don't look fine," Carol said. "I'm going to the bathroom eventually and then I'm going to look. You might as well bring me a mirror and let me get it over with while I'm sitting down."

Daryl saw Michonne look at him again. He didn't have any idea of what he was supposed to say or do. If she wanted to look, then he thought she should be able to look. He shrugged at Michonne and she sighed. She disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later, handing a decent sized hand mirror to Daryl.

"I'm going to work," she said. She turned her attention to Carol. "Take it easy and stay down. You're on the mend and you need to stay put. Don't make me break your legs to go with everything else."

"Yes ma'am," Carol said, giggling a little.

Michonne smiled and disappeared back down the hallway. Daryl heard a door close and figured that she was shutting herself away, leaving them to do what they would.

"OK," Carol said, "let me see it."

She held her hand out to him and he looked at the mirror he was holding. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the floor beside it, offering her the hand mirror.

Daryl watched as Carol looked in the mirror. At first she stared at it intently, moving it around, and then she repeated the action. He watched, then, as her face started to transform a little and tears puddled up in her eyes.

He reached then and took the mirror, quickly sticking it under the couch because he didn't know where else to put it.

"Don't'cha do that," he said. "It's gonna hurt if ya try ta cry an' it ain't worth that 'cause it ain't gonna change nothin'."

She looked at him, sucking back the tears a little and he got up searching around the living room. He had no idea where a single damn thing was in this house, but he knew that lawyers had to have tissues somewhere. It just seemed like a very lawyer type thing to have. He finally found a box stuck on the table beside the other couch and he brought it over, handing a couple to Carol. She carefully dabbed at her eyes and wiped at her nose, trying not to cry.

"It ain't that bad," Daryl said, sitting back on the floor.

"Daryl, you're sweet, but you're a bad liar," Carol said. Her voice was shaky and it was evident that she was still on the verge of tears.

"I ain't lyin'," Daryl said. "It ain't that bad. He coulda killed ya. Ya could still be laid up there in that hospital 'cause ya brain got smashed up or somethin'. So ya got a couple cuts an' bruises an' stuff, that ain't nothin'."

"Daryl it looks terrible," Carol said.

Daryl knew that women were real particular about every little aspect of their appearances. He knew they spent a lot of time gooping make up on and fixing their hair. Since Andrea had moved in he'd heard more whining about bad hair and messed up make up than he thought was possible. What was funny to him, though, every time he heard the complaining was that he didn't really understand any of it.

Andrea would snort and stomp around the apartment complaining about her hair and humidity and how it made her hair look bad. Still, for all the stomping and snorting she did, he didn't think she looked any different than she normally did. It was just hair. Sometimes it was a little poofier than others, but it was always the same idea.

And when he looked at Carol, that's all he saw…he just saw Carol. Sure, he could see the bruises and the cuts, and they looked bad, but the reason they looked bad was because he knew they hurt. He knew that Ed had given them to her and he'd had no right to do it. He knew that they hurt, and he didn't like knowing that things hurt her. They didn't change her, though, she was still just Carol.

Daryl didn't know how to explain that to her, though, or what she'd say if he tried.

"They gon' go away," Daryl said. "It might take 'em a bit, but they gon' go away. Important thing is ya alright an' they said ya gon' be just fine."

Carol nodded at him, but she didn't say anything. She picked at the edge of the blanket.

"I hate him," she said finally.

"Ed?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," Carol said. "I know we're not supposed to hate people, but I just can't help it. I absolutely hate him, even if it's wrong."

Daryl nodded his head a little. He knew what it was like to hate people, even when you didn't want to hate them. He'd heard all the speeches about turning the other cheek and forgiving people and he thought it was a real nice sentiment, but he hadn't figured out yet how to do it.

He hated Ed too, and hearing her say it just made him hate the man a little more.

"It's alright ta hate him," Daryl said. "I reckon he deserves it."

"So he's locked up now?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "They tryin' ta make sure he ain't got no options ta post no bail neither. Michonne said she reckons he's gon' be there a good long time."

Carol nodded her head a little.

"He always said that I deserved it," Carol said, "but I don't think I've ever really known why."

She leaned her head back on the pillow and Daryl moved, sitting on the couch beside her. He gently brushed some of her hair out of her face.

"It's 'cause ya didn't deserve it so he couldn't never tell ya why," Daryl said. "Ain't nobody deserves some asshole like Ed."

"Maybe I did," Carol said. "Maybe I do."

Daryl shook his head at her.

"Stop that shit," Daryl said. "Ya just runnin' ya mouth an' ya don't even know what'cha sayin'. Why don't'cha try ta sleep or somethin'?"

Carol shook her head.

"Watch a movie?" She asked.

"Sure, what the hell ya wanna watch?" Daryl asked.

"Doesn't matter," Carol said.

Daryl got up and crossed the living room. There was a shelf with a bunch of movies on it, but they all looked like cartoons and kid shit and he didn't know if that's what Carol had in mind. He decided he'd go in search of Michonne. He slipped out the living room and started down the hall. All the doors except the one at the end of the hall were closed, so he just started knocking on them. He'd knock, wait a second, and step to the next. He was fairly certain he knocked at a closet once, but finally the lawyer opened a door.

"Something wrong?" She asked.

"She wants ta watch a movie," Daryl said.

"She can watch movies," Michonne said.

Daryl realized the woman thought he was asking permission. In reality he was more interested in finding out where movies that people old enough to keep down solids would want to watch were located. He was also certain that he had no idea how to work the electronics in the house. The only television he and Merle had ever owned only picked up stations with rabbit ears and tinfoil.

"Where's a movie?" He asked.

Michonne sighed and stepped out of the room. She was wearing pajamas now and she padded down the hall in front of him back to the living room. She opened a cabinet and presented it to him like it was some kind of game show and he'd just won the big prize. He walked over and picked out one of them, having already glanced at Carol and seen she was watching the whole thing through heavy lidded eyes anyway. There was a good chance that his interactions with Michonne were just as entertaining to her as any movie would be.

Daryl held the movie out to Michonne.

"How do ya make it work?" He asked.

Michonne took the movie and instructed him, a little more quickly than he would have liked, on how to set it up and how to use the three different remote controls that she offered him. Once the thing was playing, he decided that he'd just not touch it until it was done and that would solve that problem. If Carol wanted him to put another in some other time then he'd just bug the woman again because he wasn't going to remember the laundry list of instructions.

By the time the movie was playing, though, Carol had fallen asleep.

"Is it OK she sleeps a lot?" Daryl asked Michonne.

Michonne nodded.

"It's fine. She needs to rest and there's not much else that she can do," Michonne said. "At least she's sleeping right now. I'm afraid of when and if the nightmares start."

Daryl nodded his head. He didn't know if Carol had nightmares, but he thought that most people did and what had happened would be enough to trigger them. He knew that Merle had nightmares. Sometimes his were bad enough that he'd knocked a hole in the wall in the last place they'd lived just trying to get away from something. Daryl usually woke up from his own nightmares, typically sweating, but he didn't react as violently as Merle did. Andrea had nightmares the night after the incident with Ed, but Daryl didn't really know if they were common or a side effect of whatever she'd taken. He imagined that Carol was likely to have them soon if she hadn't already started.

"Ya gon' be alright with her at night?" Daryl asked.

Michonne nodded and sighed.

"I'll be fine," she said. "I'm used to not sleeping through the night. If it gets too bad I'll just move her into my room with me. There's enough room there. They said at the hospital that last night she had one and they gave her something to get her back to sleep. I have a feeling we've only seen the tip of the iceberg."

"Yeah…well…" Daryl said. "If ya ever got pounded on for no reason by some asshole like Ed I reckon ya'd be prone ta seein' shit in ya sleep."

"I've been lucky," Michonne said. "I've seen it happen, but I've never been on the receiving end."

"Ain't no damn fun," Daryl said. "Ya can bet on that."

Michonne walked over to where Carol was sleeping and Daryl watched as she readjusted the blanket some and moved Carol's hair out of her face.

"Ya care about her, don't'cha?" Daryl asked finally.

Michonne turned around then and started like she was leaving the living room. She half smiled at him.

"She's my friend," Michonne said. "Of course I care."

"How long ya been friends for?" Daryl asked.

Michonne smiled again.

"Long enough," she said. She leaned against the doorframe leading out into the hall and Daryl turned his attention to arranging the remotes that he didn't understand on the floor beside the couch. "You care about her too, don't you?" Michonne asked.

Daryl turned around. He considered the question a moment.

"Yeah," he said. "I reckon I do."

Daryl didn't know if his answer was satisfactory or not, but he didn't have much practice with this sort of thing and he still wasn't able to put much of a clear definition on his feelings, even for himself. He did care, though, that much he knew.

Michonne nodded at him, half smiling again. She didn't say anything about it, though.

"I'm going to work," she said. "Let me know if y'all need anything."

Daryl nodded back at her and sat back in his position on the floor to watch whatever movie it was that he'd put in and wait to see when Carol woke up and needed something else.


	38. Chapter 38

Carol still didn't feel like she had before everything had happened with Ed, but she was trying to keep things to herself. She hated, more than anything, the feeling of being a burden, and she'd been feeling like nothing else since she left the hospital.

She was able to take care of herself, and she didn't need help really with doing anything unless it was just after she took the pain medication. Sometimes she had a short spell then of feeling light headed, but for the most part she was able to work around it by holding onto the wall or any other solid structure around her.

She was trying to wean herself off of the medication. She didn't like taking it and she skipped the doses as frequently as possible. Little by little the pain was getting better. It had been almost two weeks since the incident, though, and she was frustrated that things hadn't progressed any farther than they had.

Michonne kept her up to date on all the legalese of everything that was going on, but she didn't understand all of it. She was being granted her divorce, she knew that much, and she as getting a monetary settlement that sounded like a nice sum of money. She couldn't really say that the amount was fair, because she didn't know how to put a price tag on everything that Ed had done through the years, but it did sound like a whole lot of money and Michonne assured her that it was about the best that they could hope for.

The money wasn't hers yet, though. There was all kinds of filters and road blocks that it seemed to have to pass through before it became her money. She felt like it would never actually be hers. It was just an imaginary sum passing around from hand to hand out there in the world somewhere.

Ed himself was in a world of trouble, or so Michonne reported. He was undeniably going to prison, Carol had been assured of that, and apparently he was looking at about fifteen years of time. Carol didn't want to admit that she'd still been terrified even after hearing that. Fifteen years was a long time, but it wasn't all that long, and the thought of Ed coming back, even after fifteen years, kept her awake some hours at night.

For the two weeks since the incident, Carol had been living at Michonne's house. She hadn't even seen her tiny apartment in that time. If she needed anything, it magically appeared from her apartment in the form of some package dropped off by Andrea or Daryl brought it by when he came to visit.

Daryl had surprised her, perhaps, more than anything. Nearly every day he showed up on Michonne's doorstep after he got off of work. Most times he'd clearly gone home to shower and to pick up anything that Carol might have requested, but it seemed that was all he did besides working and spending time with her.

He would sit with her most of the time, keeping her company while they watched television. Sometimes he would talk to her, but she'd learned that he didn't like to carry on very long conversations, so they would taper off before too much had been said. Most of the time that he was around he was simply content to sit in silence while she did whatever she wanted to do to entertain herself.

Carol was afraid to care about Daryl the way that she was starting to care. She was afraid that everything she felt about him was just some kind of response to the trauma, some kind of trumped up emotion that wasn't real. He was being so nice to her…something she never expected from anyone really, and especially not from a man like Daryl.

To be a man that was as rough spoken as he could be at times, and as awkward as was humanly possible, he was gentle with her. Sometimes she felt like he treated her as though she were going to break. Even once Michonne had released her from her semi-bedridden state and allowed her free reign of the house without constant adult supervision, Daryl seemed nervous every time he saw her get up. If she went to the bathroom he would trail his eyes after her and he was almost always looking at the doorway when she'd pass back into the living room.

She'd thought, at first, that it was some kind of romantic thing, but part of her felt like it was something different, and she was afraid of believing that feeling as well. They were only alone, most of the time, in Michonne's living room and therefore their opportunities for anything were limited. It was like having your parents constantly nearby, or at least a prying older sister. Daryl hadn't tried anything, though. Carol couldn't remember him even trying to kiss her during the full two weeks. He'd kissed her forehead once or twice, and a few times he'd held her hand while sitting beside her on the couch and kissed her fingers, but he hadn't tried anything more than that.

Carol searched her mind, but she couldn't figure out what it was that made Daryl keep coming back day after day. He wasn't there for conversation, that much was clear, and it appeared that he wasn't there for any kind of physical gratification. He was simply there, or so it would seem, to sit on Michonne's couch for a few hours and watch her do whatever it was they were going to do. She wondered if even Daryl knew why he was there, or if he'd simply fallen into some kind of comfortable "pancake" habit of coming there.

Finally, though, Carol was ready to try to start getting her life back together. It had been two weeks and two weeks was enough. She appreciated all that Michonne had done for her, and she knew she owed the woman for her patience, especially at night when she couldn't control the dreams that sometimes woke her, Michonne, and even the girls up, but Carol knew that she had to get back out there on her own. She needed to make her way back to her apartment and she needed to get back to work.

Loretta and Lula, being as supportive as they were in her plight to outrun the damage that Ed had done to her life, had graciously told Carol that whenever she was ready to come back to work, her jobs were still there. She had to admit that though the jobs weren't much, she was looking forward to getting back to them, and she was looking forward to what she knew would be strange feeling of going to and from her places of employment without the worry that Ed was lurking in the shadows. She was still, admittedly, a little afraid of how she was going to feel the first night that she and Andrea left the Watering Hole together, but she was sure that she would pull through it.

And so the day finally came that Carol was ready to go back to her little apartment. Michonne drove her over, the trunk packed with everything that had been drug over a little at a time for the past fortnight.

When she unlocked the door and stepped into her little place, putting down the bag she was carrying and moving out of the way for Michonne to pass through with everything she had insisted on lugging up the steps, Carol was a little overwhelmed. It was just the same as she'd left it that day, when she'd slipped out of the apartment with Andrea and headed to work, not knowing that it would be two full weeks before she reopened that door.

Carol felt tears welling in her eyes and she did everything she could to push them back. She knew she cried too much these days and that the tears worried Michonne. She didn't want to worry her anymore for fear that the woman would insist she wasn't ready to do this.

"Thank you," Carol said, turning toward Michonne. "I think I'm fine now."

"What do you need?" Michonne asked. "I'm going to pick you up some groceries now. What do you want?"

Carol realized that she didn't have anything there and likely the refrigerator was full of disgusting food due to her absence. She walked open and reluctantly opened it, afraid of whatever mold monster might emerge. To her surprised, though, the fridge was empty. She turned and looked at Michonne.

"I had Andrea clean out anything that could go bad," Michonne said by way of explanation. "We didn't think you needed to come home to that."

Carol nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "I'll tell Andrea thank you when I see her."

"Doesn't look like you've got to wait too long," Michonne said. Carol looked at her and then glanced toward the door. Andrea was standing there silently, just peeking her head around the frame. Carol smiled at her. Andrea stepped in, then reaching out and hugging her to her.

"Welcome home," Andrea said. "Place hasn't been the same without you."

"Thank you for everything," Carol said. She hadn't actually seen Andrea much since the whole thing happened, but she knew she'd been behind the scenes a good deal.

"Hey…we do what we can, right?" Andrea said. "It's good to have you back here, and you know that if you need anything we're right across the hall."

Carol nodded.

"So, food, what do you want?" Michonne asked.

Carol felt overwhelmed by the thought. The moving back in, the emotions she was feeling, all of it was overwhelming.

"I don't know, Michonne," Carol said. "I mean just the basics until I can get settled again."

Michonne nodded.

"Fine. Andrea will help you get settled and I'm going to run to the A and P. I'll be back before you even know it," Michonne said.

Carol thanked her and Michonne ducked out of the apartment leaving her alone with Andrea.

"Want me to help you unpack?" Andrea asked, reaching for one of Carol's bags.

"I can do it," Carol said. "How have you been? What have I missed? I feel like I've been on Mars."

Andrea smiled. Carol noticed that just like her own bruises hadn't faded entirely, Andrea had a small mark of a bruise right at the corner of her eye that hadn't faded yet, though it was in the odd coloring stages of fading away.

"You haven't missed much," Andrea said. "Everything here's the same as it's always been. Daryl and Merle are the same, I'm the same, the apartments are the same. You could actually go to Mars and come back and it would all be the same."

"I've seen Daryl nearly every day," Carol said.

Andrea nodded. She ran her finger across the edge of Carol's countertop.

"And you'll see him today too, I'm sure," Andrea said. "He's still working. He and Merle both. I'm on at the Watering Hole tomorrow night."

"I'm back on the schedule," Carol said, "but I don't start until next week."

Andrea nodded, still dragging her finger along the ugly orange countertop.

"No need to jump into things right away. You need to get settled first," Andrea said.

"Andrea…" Carol started, "I'm so sorry that you got into things that night with Ed. I never would have wanted you to get caught up in that."

"Carol," Andrea said, "you don't have anything to apologize for to anybody, OK? I'm actually glad I was there. If I hadn't been there…" Andrea stopped and smiled at Carol. "It's OK, alright? We don't have to talk about it."

Carol nodded and took a deep breath, looking around.

She really was happy to be back in her apartment, at least as happy as she seemed to feel these days. She thought that maybe she needed to be alone for a bit. Maybe she needed to start readjusting to what it felt like not to have Michonne there the whole time to chase away any demons that bothered her. She was going to have to learn to chase them away herself, after all.

"Well," Carol said, "I guess I'm going to start unpacking. Try to get settled by the time that Michonne gets back."

Andrea smiled at her and reached out, touching her hair a second.

"Yeah," she said, "good idea. I'll see you this evening."

"What's happening this evening?" Carol asked.

Andrea looked surprised for a minute and then she smiled.

"Nothing, I just meant I'd see you later," Andrea said. "I'll have to come over, tell Daryl it's time to come home…you know."

Carol smiled at her and nodded slightly, not entirely sure she believed Andrea but feeling too tired to worry about it. Andrea turned, then and slipped out of the apartment, closing the door behind her and leaving Carol alone. Carol gathered up her bags and drug them to the bedroom so that she could start unpacking everything.

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Daryl wasn't always sure why he did the things he did. Especially these days. He felt like lately his entire life was run by three women, and they were three women that didn't always explain themselves, or didn't explain themselves well.

On the one hand, there was Carol. He didn't mind Carol in the slightest. She didn't demand much from him and in fact he'd had to force her to let him do almost anything for her during the two weeks that he'd spent passing his evening hours at Michonne's house. Carol seemed to think that it was too much to ask him for anything, and so he really didn't get to do much except sit with her and occasionally get her something to drink from the kitchen.

On the other hand, he had Andrea and Michonne. Both of them, it seemed, were always pushing him to do something. One was always whispering at him what he should do for Carol, even though he knew that she would try to stop him from doing it or insist that he didn't need to do it.

Merle gave Daryl hell about Carol every chance he got. He told him he was being a pussy. He said he wasn't even getting any from her anymore and she had him whipped. Daryl was beginning to worry that Merle was right, but Andrea told him Merle was an asshole, and he had to agree with that as well.

It wasn't that Daryl didn't want to have sex with Carol anymore, in fact he thought about it more than he thought he really should, but he hadn't exactly had the prime opportunity with her bossy big sister Michonne peeking around door frames every now again to check how much distance there was between them on the couch.

Daryl knew, at this point, that Andrea and Michonne wanted him to have sex with Carol as much as he wanted it apparently. Otherwise he didn't figure they'd be there every time he turned around telling him what to do to make her like him more. The thing was, though, that Michonne kept reminding him that he needed to be sure that Carol had sex with him because she wanted to and not because she felt like she had to or that it was just the nice thing to do.

And so Daryl had backed off as much as he could. He wanted to give Carol all the space she needed. He was trying not to even touch her if she didn't somehow request the touch. Merle called that being a pussy about it. Daryl just wanted to make sure that if they ever did get to have sex again she wasn't going to tell him that she didn't want to be with him anymore right after that.

Today, though, he was on yet another mission that he didn't fully understand. This mission had been set in place by Michonne, though Andrea was in on it just like with everything else. The two of them had set the whole thing up, he just had to go along with it.

Daryl pulled into the yard of the address that Michonne had given him. He got out the truck and stood there awkwardly a moment, checking the house number again to make sure that he didn't have the wrong address. While he was standing there, an old man in blue coveralls came out of the house's garage and waved at him.

"You must be the young feller that's here for the puppy?" The old man said.

Daryl nodded at him.

"I'm Daryl Dixon," Daryl said. The old man approached him and stuck his hand out. Daryl shook it.

"Well, come on then and let's go have a look at 'em," the old man said. "My name's Willard Jones, but you can call me Dick, most everyone else does."

Daryl thought about it and decided he'd rather not call the old man Dick. The old man led him toward the garage and as they got there a short legged hound dog bounded toward Daryl. He stood still for a moment and then lowered his hand down, letting the dog sniff him. He could tell from her teats that she was the mother of the puppy that he'd come to claim. A puppy, apparently, that Michonne had bought but he was supposed to take credit for. When the female dog bumped her head against his hand, Daryl scratched her behind her droopy ears.

"That there's Missy," Willard said. "Samsonite's out back. He's the proud papa. You can go and have a look at him if it suits you."

Daryl shook his head. The puppy in question was bought and paid for and he was sure that Michonne had already done all the looking that needed to be done. She was funny that way and paid attention to details he wouldn't normally think about.

Daryl followed the man into the back of the garage where there were about six of the short little droopy puppies running around in a fenced off area.

"There they are," Willard said, beaming at the puppies. Daryl looked at them all.

"Which one am I s'posed ta get?" Daryl asked.

Willard looked at him and smiled.

"The one you want," Willard said. "They was ready to go three days ago but the lady paid extra for you to get the pick of the litter."

Daryl looked at the dogs. He had no idea what the pick of the litter was supposed to look like. He thought that maybe Michonne gave him too much credit for knowing about dogs because he certainly didn't know much about them. Daryl scratched his head.

"Which one's the pick a' the litter?" Daryl asked.

Willard chuckled. He reached over into the little penned up area and picked up one of the pups, holding it out Daryl.

"This one here, she's a beauty," Willard said. Daryl took the little dog and she tried to lick his face. She almost wiggled out of his arms a time or two. "She's an excited little gal, but if you're lookin' to breed, she's about the best we got out of this litter."

Daryl held the puppy out and looked at her. She looked like all the other puppies as far as he could tell. He handed her back to Willard and Willard handed him another puppy that he'd scooped out of the pen.

"Now this one here, he's my wife's favorite. Got a lot of spunk, she says. He's a smart little feller too. He ain't got the best posture, though, so he might not make a great sire," the man said, passing the puppy to Daryl. It too seemed thrilled to find his arms and licked him straight up the neck, making him shiver a little.

"So which one should I take?" Daryl asked.

The man scratched his head, smiling.

"What do you want the dog for, son?" Willard asked.

"He's a present," Daryl said. "Carol's been kinda down an' Michonne said this'll cheer her up, so I come ta get it."

"A child?" Willard asked, wrinkling his brow.

Daryl shook his head. He didn't know what to call Carol exactly. He felt strange calling her his girlfriend, but he felt like she was more than a friend. He decided, since he didn't know what to say, to leave things in the simplest terms that he could.

"She's a grown up," Daryl said. The smile returned to Willard's face.

"Good," he said, scratching at his belly. "I don't like to know my pups are going to children. A lot of people buy pups for children and then they lose interest in them. I like to know the little guys are taken care of, even if they're breeders or hunting dogs."

Daryl nodded.

"She'll take care of it," Daryl said. "She likes furry things."

Willard smiled again.

"So you want one as a pet, huh?" He asked.

Daryl nodded. He couldn't see Carol breeding the floppy skinned things and he was pretty sure that she wasn't an avid hunter. The dog was likely going to be just that…simply a dog.

"Yeah, just a pet," Daryl said.

Williard regarded the pups again, including the one that was now trying to sleep in Daryl's arms.

"Then I'd say you've probably got your pick right there," Willard said. "He's a good dog. He'll make a good pet."

Daryl looked at the puppy. He didn't know if this would do the trick, but Michonne seemed confident that the puppy would perk Carol up and he was more than willing to give it a try.

"Alright then," Daryl said. "What I owe ya?"

Willard shook his head.

"You don't owe me a thing, son. The lady already took care of it. Just promise me that he's going to have a good home," Willard said.

Daryl nodded.

"I reckon he's goin' ta the best woman he can go to," Daryl said.

Willard smiled and reached his hands out.

"Do you mind if I say goodbye?" He asked.

Daryl shook his head and passed the puppy to the old man. The old man held the puppy up, who woke up almost immediately and cooed at it, letting the little dog lap at his face.

"You be a good boy, now? Ya hear me? Don't you go makin' trouble," Willard said. He nuzzled the pup a moment and Daryl was surprised because it looked as though the old man might cry. He passed the dog back to Daryl. "I wish we could keep all of them," he said. "I'm glad to know he's headed to happy home, though."

Daryl thanked the old man and Willard walked him to his truck. Daryl opened the door and put the dog in the seat, crawling in beside him.

"I hope he makes the lady feel better," Willard said.

"I reckon he's got as good a chance as any of us," Daryl said.

Willard said goodbye then and waved at Daryl as he started the truck. Daryl backed out of the drive and headed in the direction of home, the puppy curling into his lap as he drove. He hoped he'd done right in picking out the puppy, and he hoped that it was the magical gift that Michonne promised it would be.

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**AN: So, I might try for one more chapter tonight. I'm not really sleepy just yet.**

**Carol's getting a puppy. I've known about him for a while now. :-)**

**If you haven't guessed, he's a Basset Hound. I love the breed, and I know that Melissa McBride has one (we all know Lincoln). I had one once as well, but her name was Anna Belle. They're great dogs.**

**So my question for you is: what do we name the puppy? I was considering borrowing MM's name because I really like the name Lincoln. I might consider something different though. Let me know your suggestions for our little fellow and I'll see about getting you another chapter out soon.**

**For the record, though, if I do borrow the name Lincoln, everything about the dog will be purely from my own imagination. **


	39. Chapter 39

**AN: So I've gotten a few PMs about other stories and I'm going to work on updating them this weekend. I know they're being sorely neglected. Sometimes I can't help it. I get really into a story and have certain plot points so clear in my mind that I almost can't stand to put them aside and try to write for others. I am, though, going to try to put Sweet Junction aside some during the weekend and update my other stories so that no one feels left out or thinks I've abandoned any work. I'm not abandoning anything, just going where the muse takes me. **

**I want to thank you all for your reviews and your messages. They really mean a lot and keep me pumped up to write the story. I try, sometimes, to respond to you all individually, but juggling things and trying to update a lot doesn't allow much time for that. That doesn't mean, certainly, that I don't love and appreciate every single one of your comments, it simply means that I'm usually focused on trying to produce more for you to read! **

**It looks like the majority of people like Lincoln. I've been offered some other names too that I liked, but I think I've already got Lincoln set in my mind as the puppy's name, so we're going to go with that. **

**I hope you enjoy. There may be a few more updates here before I turn my attention to trying to update my other stories. **

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Daryl wasn't really sure what was happening. He'd brought the puppy in, wrapped up in his shirt like Andrea and Michonne had demanded in case Carol was anywhere outside of her apartment, and they'd attacked him before he could get fully into his own door.

They cooed at the puppy and oohed and ahhed over him until Daryl didn't know what to do. They'd both lost their minds it appeared. Just when he though it couldn't get worse, it did.

Andrea sat the basket on the card table. It was loaded down with little blankets. Michonne had a bag that she produced from one of the kitchen chairs.

"OK, I got pink and blue ribbons, which one do we need?" Michonne asked.

Andrea held the puppy up and looked at him.

"Blue, he's all blue," she said.

Daryl watched as Michonne tied a ribbon around the dog's neck. The puppy was wiggling around in Andrea's arms and acting like it thought the whole damn thing was the greatest event of its little furry life. Daryl stood back, shaking his head.

Merle pushed through the door a moment later, closing it behind him and obviously trying to figure out what the hell was taking place in his overcrowded kitchen.

"What in fuck's name are y'all doin' ta that dog?" He barked.

"Shut your face!" Andrea snapped. "Don't let Carol hear your damn loud mouth or you're going to ruin everything!"

Daryl almost laughed. It wasn't often that Andrea snapped back at Merle with the same ferocity that he tended to use with others, but she wasn't playing over this dog thing. The women had been swept up in something and Daryl could tell it was more than he could understand.

"The hell they doin'?" Merle asked Daryl, this time lowering his voice.

Daryl shrugged.

"The dog's for Carol," Daryl said. "I ain't got a fuckin' clue what they doin' ta it though."

"We're packaging him," Michonne said. "Part of a gift is in the wrapping."

"It's a dog," Daryl said.

"It's a baby," Andrea responded. "A furry little baby," she cooed.

"I think I might hurl," Merle said.

"Take your ass in the other room then," Andrea snapped. "You stink anyway. We don't need you ruining this."

"Fuck's crawled up your ass?" Merle asked. "I smell like I always do when I get home from workin', it's called bein' a man."

"Go shower, then," Andrea said.

Merle shot Daryl a look and squeezed past him, obviously deciding to go do just that and leave Daryl to the excitement of the women. The dog was now wearing a collar and a ribbon. He was accepting, also, his fate of being burrowed down into the basket full of soft yellow and white blankets. Daryl thought to himself that he really wouldn't mind the fate if he were a dog, so he couldn't much blame the little thing.

"There," Michonne said. Both women stood back to admire their work and the little puppy yawned and looked like he was as satisfied with the results as they were. Michonne turned her attention to Daryl then. "Now, I've got food, a bed, some puppy pads, a leash, and some toys in my car. We can get that after you give her the puppy."

Daryl nodded his agreement with the plan, not sure of what he was supposed to do exactly.

"You're going to carry his basket over there, knock on the door, and tell her that you got her something as a welcome home gift, got that?" Michonne asked.

Daryl nodded. He wasn't stupid and that was simple enough, though he really didn't understand why they needed the bows and the basket and blanket. He thought the dog was just fine when it was riding home with him, drooling in his lap.

"Remember," Michonne said, putting her hand on his shoulder and staring him in the eye, "the puppy was your idea. You thought of it, you bought it, you picked it out, you gave it to her. This was your idea."

"But ya bought the dog," Daryl said.

"You're not listening," Michonne said. "This puppy is your gift. Everything about this puppy is yours. That's all you have to remember about this, Daryl, it's not that hard."

Daryl was a little afraid of the woman who had a firm grip on his shoulder. She was staring at him like if he fucked up the puppy plan she would castrate him. He nodded.

"But it really weren't my idea," he said. He wasn't sure that he liked the idea of lying and for taking credit for something that really wasn't his. "I didn't think of it."

"It was your idea," Michonne said, "you just hadn't thought of it yet."

Daryl narrowed his eyebrows at her, confused.

"You were going to think of the puppy, I just happened to do it first. It was your idea and I stole it from you. If you'd seen Willard's post at the A and P saying he had the puppies, then you'd have thought of it all on your own," Michonne urged.

Daryl didn't think he would have thought of the puppy. He knew that Carol cooed over animals on television, but he wouldn't have thought of buying her one. He was confused, however, by Michonne's logic.

"So all you have to remember is that everything about this puppy is your doing," Michonne said again, squeezing his shoulder hard as though bruising his shoulder might make it easier for him to remember the message that she was obviously trying to implant in his mind.

Daryl nodded again and Michonne let go of his shoulder. He rubbed the spot, quickly, where her fingers had dug into his skin.

"I got it," he said.

"Good, now get over there and deliver this puppy before he decides to come out of this basket," Andrea said. She pulled one of the blankets up just enough to cover the puppy up.

Daryl sighed and picked the basket up, trying not to jostle the poor dog too much. Under the blanket, though, the puppy didn't stir.

Daryl felt a little ridiculous holding the basket the women had decorated, but he was going to do this. He was mostly afraid that if he didn't do it, they were going to beat him for it. Michonne opened the door then and held it open for him to pass through. He turned a little, watching Andrea and Michonne step into the hall behind him.

Daryl balanced the basket on one arm and knocked on Carol's door, shifting the basket back into both arms while he waited.

Carol opened the door a minute later and then stood there looking confused. She glanced between him, the basket he was holding, and the two women who were standing like bodyguards behind him.

"I…uh…" Daryl knew what he was supposed to say, but he wished he'd practiced it a little more. "I got'cha somethin'."

Carol swung the door open further and ushered him inside. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he passed directly to her couch and put the basket down, thankful that the puppy didn't stir from under the blankets. Carol came over, still looking a little confused behind her curiosity. Daryl glanced at the door to see Andrea and Michonne peeking in, both of them grinning and looking just a bit insane in his opinion.

"What is this?" Carol asked, eying the basket.

"Look at it," Daryl said. He wondered if she thought he would do something crazy like bring her a live snake or something the way she was looking at the basket full of blankets.

Carol sat on the couch and Daryl reached out instinctively to keep the basket from tipping with the shifting of the cushion. She looked at him once more before she finally started to rearrange the blankets. As soon as she slid the blanket off of the puppy, her hands covered her mouth and she looked at Daryl.

"For me?" She asked.

Daryl couldn't help but grin at her. She looked so surprised and she almost looked like she might start crying. He thought that maybe the puppy had been a good idea after all. He nodded at her.

"Yeah, he's for you," Daryl said.

"Ooohhh!" Carol cooed, scooping up the puppy who was probably tired of being cooed over at this point. The dog yawned and looked around sleepily for a second before it started wagging its tail again and lapping at her face even though its tongue wasn't nearly long enough to make its mark. She examined it, and then hugged it to her chest and that's when Daryl became sure that she was going to cry.

"Now if ya gon' cry about it then I'm takin' it back," Daryl teased.

The tears involuntarily sprinkled down Carol's face as she continued to coo over the dog that she was holding close to her chest. The dog didn't seem to mind this position more than he'd minded any other, and he started to burrow into her as though he were about to try and get the rest of the nap that kept being disturbed.

"Oh, Daryl!" Carol said.

Daryl chuckled at her. If he had thought of this, he'd think it was the best idea he'd ever had.

Carol stood up, the puppy still snuggled against her, and she walked over. She leaned up toward him and he met her, expecting a light kiss from her. He was almost knocked over, however, by the kiss that she planted on his lips when hers finally touched his. He put his hands around her hips, not knowing any other way to respond to such a kiss. He tried to be mindful of the puppy sleeping between them as he responded to her, her tongue diving into his mouth and playing against his with more conviction than he thought it ever had before.

When she finally broke the kiss, Daryl felt like he needed a minute to get his breath. He'd never imagined that a wrinkly little dog with about four foot of extra skin would get him a kiss like that. He chuckled a little after he got his breath, not really knowing what else to do.

"Ya like him then?" He asked.

"Oh…I love him!" Carol said.

Daryl smiled. A few of the small stray tears still rolled down her cheek and Daryl tried to gently brush them away, mindful of the fact that the bruises that hadn't entirely faded might still be tender to the touch.

"Then why ya cryin' woman?" He asked. "If ya love him so damn much, then ya ought not ta cry. Ya liable ta confuse him."

Carol shook her head.

"I can't stop it," she said. "I'm trying to, but I can't."

Daryl smiled.

"Well hell, in that case maybe ya oughta just go ahead an' bawl about it a bit an' then ya can feel better. Got some stuff for him that we gonna bring up, so why don't we leave ya two alone a few minutes an' ya can get out whatever it is that ya need ta get out," Daryl said.

Carol nodded, more tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. Daryl had seen her cry enough in the past two weeks that he had learned that sometimes it was best just to let her have a good bawl and then she'd be over it. He turned, then. To his surprise, the two women hugging either side of the door frame looked like they were going to cry too. Apparently there was something he didn't understand about crying. He shook his head and started toward his partners in crime.

"Come on, Laverne and Shirley," Daryl said. "Let's give 'em a minute."

Andrea and Michonne backed out of the door and let Daryl pass through and close it behind him. He followed them down the stairs to bring up everything else that Michonne figured Carol would need to welcome home the little dog.

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Michonne didn't stay long after they'd delivered all the stuff to Carol's apartment that apparently the puppy just had to have. Daryl had never seen so much stuff. Michonne had clearly thought of everything and he wondered sheepishly if he was supposed to take credit for all of that too, but nothing was ever mentioned about it. Carol seemed excited about all the puppy extras, but she never asked where they came from. She was too wrapped up in the puppy.

Once Michonne had left, Daryl sat on the couch and watched Andrea and Carol sit a few feet from each other on the floor while the puppy varied its activities between trying to sleep and loping back and forth between them. Both women squealed almost constantly at the dog and Daryl was beginning to think that his eardrums might not survive. He supposed the dog was only immune to it because he had big droopy ears that almost drug the floor, and they must have worked like sound curtains to block out the noise.

At some point in the evening, they took the dog out on the leash to do whatever business it was supposed to do outside. Daryl followed behind them, puffing at his cigarette and not knowing what else was expected of him. They hooted and hollered when the animal finished his business, and Daryl started to wonder if everything the dog did was supposed to be so damn exciting. He kept looking around for Merle, but Merle had apparently chosen to stay hidden in their apartment or either he'd snuck out while they were inside Carol's to head down to the Watering Hole. Merle wasn't really the puppy kind of guy. Daryl wasn't sure he was either, but he was sure that Merle was even less so.

"So ya gonna name the thing?" Daryl asked Carol when they got back in and she was in the floor with Andrea toweling off the dog's feet because she said the grass was damp and he could sick. Daryl watched her but decided he wasn't touching that one with a ten foot pole. The grass around the apartment got cut so rarely that the fact they hadn't lost the dog was amazing, and it hadn't rain for quite some time in Sweet Junction, so he didn't much imagine that the grass was damp, but if Carol wanted to rub her dog with a towel, she was more than welcome to do so.

Carol was cradling the dog now, it's long ears flopping back over her arm and it was trying to nip at her hair but she didn't seem much to care.

"Of course I'm going to name him," she said, "but I don't know what to call him yet. It's important. You can't just name him any old thing."

"I like Jasper," Andrea said.

Carol considered the puppy and shook her head.

"I like it, but it's not quite right," she said.

Daryl yawned. He was getting tired and he knew that exciting new wrinkly dog or not they would all need to go to bed soon. The puppy was starting to settle down flopped back in Carol's arms, so he thought that the puppy might be the only one in the room that agreed with him.

"Well," Andrea said, "you don't have to name him tonight. You can sleep on it."

"What would you call him, Daryl?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged. He hadn't ever named anything and he had little desire to start now.

"Don't matter," Daryl said. "Ya can call the thing Fucker for all I care 'bout names."

Carol looked at him like she was absolutely shocked and cuddled the dog to her.

"Daryl! You can't call him that!" She scolded. "He's a baby and he deserves a sweet name. He needs something cute but dignified."

"He's a dog," Daryl said. "How dignified has he gotta be? He was tryin' ta eat a grasshopper outside."

Carol shot him another look and he decided to keep his mouth shut. He didn't understand the puppy business and he'd learned by now that women and things he didn't understand didn't go well together. It was better just to let them be.

Andrea wrestled herself to her feet and walked over, helping Carol up by tugging on her free arm as she balanced the puppy. Andrea cooed a moment longer over the puppy and squeezed Carol's arm.

"Well, I'm going to bed," she said. "Merle's probably at the Watering Hole which means he'll be back soon to tear the place down around me. I'd like to get to sleep before he comes wandering back in. I'm sure you'll come up with a great name for your little fellow."

"Goodnight," Carol said, smiling.

Andrea waved at Daryl from where she was and started out the door. Daryl didn't know what he was supposed to do. At Michonne's it had been easy to know when it was time to go home. Usually Michonne would just announce that it was getting late, or she had to put her damn kids to bed, or something of the like and Daryl could tell by her facial expression that she was just creating new ways to kick him out. He didn't have Michonne here, though, and now that Andrea had crossed the hall he didn't have anyone to tell him whether or not Carol wanted him to leave yet. He sat back on the couch, though, and decided he'd watch her to see if she gave him any clues.

Carol came over and sat on the couch too, still cradling the sleeping puppy that she was admiring as though she hadn't seen him before. She leaned against Daryl and he took that as his cue to put his arm around her. She rooted her face against him a little.

"Isn't he precious?" She asked.

Daryl felt like he was sick and tired of confirming the cute status of the dog, but he grunted anyway.

"He looks tired," Daryl said.

"He's had a big day," Carol said, yawning.

"Sounds like you have too," Daryl said. He figured that he should probably excuse himself. He pulled his arm from around her shoulder and got up off the couch.

"Where are you going?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"I reckon I'm goin' ta sleep," Daryl said. "Tomorrow's another day."

"Stay with me?" Carol asked, looking up at him.

Daryl wasn't sure how to respond. Was this a stay with me as in sleep on my couch in case I need something? Or was this a stay with me for a little while longer? Or was this a stay with me, stay with me, kind of stay with me?

Daryl decided that regardless of the nature of the stay with me, he would do just that. She'd let him know, he supposed, what it was.

"OK," he said.

Carol smiled. She got up a moment later and he kept his same position, watching her as she walked around with the puppy. Finally, she put the dog in the oversized bed that Michonne had picked out for him, which Daryl had to admit looked more comfortable than his own mattress, and tucked blankets in around it. Daryl almost laughed at the fuss she was making over the little thing.

Finally, she stood up and she crossed the room, surprising him by wrapping her arms around him and leaning up to kiss him like she had earlier. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hoping that he wasn't crossing any lines. He now lacked Michonne's presence for policing their proximity as well.

Carol didn't say anything, though, when she broke the kiss. He watched her as she moved a little lamp onto the kitchen table and switched it on, and then she went around, locking the apartment door and turning off the lights. Daryl had now figured out that he was intended to spend the night there, though the details had yet to be filled in for him.

Daryl stayed in his spot until Carol disappeared through the doorway into her bedroom. A few minutes later, she called out to him.

"Are you coming to bed?" She asked.

Daryl smiled a little to himself but tried not to get his hopes up. Just because she was letting him sleep in her room didn't mean anything. He'd let Andrea sleep with him the night she was so drugged up so Merle didn't kill her in his sleep. Sometimes sleeping was just that.

As soon as Daryl came into the bedroom, though, he got the feeling that sleeping wasn't all that was going to be taking place, or at least he hoped not. When he came in, the room was dark except for the small bedside lamp that Carol had, and she was sitting on her bed wearing nothing but a pair of yellow lace panties. Daryl felt himself go hard almost instantly and he closed his eyes for a minute, trying to process the whole thing. He had a pretty good feeling that the dog sleeping in a pile of blankets in the other room was about to get him right back where he'd been trying to get.

Daryl stripped off his shirt and toed off his shoes. He looked back at Carol and she was just sitting there, her legs crossed now, leaning back on her arms, watching him. He smiled and took off his pants and socks, not embarrassed at his clear state of arousal showing through his boxers. When he looked back at her, she was smiling and he could almost swear she was blushing. Daryl stepped forward, a little afraid to put his hands on her, afraid that she might change her mind.

When he lowered himself to his knees, though, and leaned up, taking one of her nipples in his mouth, she moaned and her hands went to his shoulders, telling him that she wasn't planning on changing her mind right now. He sucked one nipple, and then the other, letting his tongue trail around them lazily. She moaned and bucked against the mattress. He pulled away, smiling.

"Where'd ya put the condoms, he asked, pushing himself up with the mattress. Carol was panting.

"Top drawer of the dresser," she said. He crossed the room and pulled the drawer open, digging out one of the condoms and noticing that they'd lightened their supply by at least a couple of boxes. He turned around and ran his hand through his hair. Carol had crawled backward onto the mattress and was lying back on it now. "You don't need them, though," she said.

"The hell ya mean?" Daryl asked, resting his palm on the dresser top for the moment.

"I'm on the pill," Carol said. "I have been since I got married…"

Daryl was thankful that she left it at that. He didn't want to hear that fucker's name, and certainly not while Carol was lying almost naked on the bed in front of him, the pink light from the lampshade spilling over her. Daryl was struck for a moment, though, despite his best efforts to stay focused.

"Then why'd ya make me go through all that shit ta get 'em?" He asked.

Carol looked worried.

"I didn't know you that well…" she said. "And I didn't want you to think I was easy either."

Daryl chuckled a little and stood there, the condom in his hand, thinking about what she'd just said.

"Daryl?" She said, snapping him back out of his contemplation. "Are you still going to sleep with me or…" she let her voice trail off.

Daryl crossed the room then and came back to the bed. He crawled onto the mattress and kissed her, holding the kiss for a long while and enjoying the feel of her hands tracing over his back, her soft fingertips almost making him shiver as they ran lightly over his scars. When he went back to her breasts, she threw her head back and he came up to kiss her throat.

He wanted to say so many things at that moment, but none of them would be right. He wanted to tell her that he missed her, that he wanted to stay right there, in that moment, because he was afraid of all the time that might come later. He was afraid of seeing her face again, the way it was the day she sat on the arm of her sofa and told him that she didn't want him anymore.

He decided not to tell her any of those things, though. He shucked himself out of his underwear and hooked his fingers in her panties, pulling them down and tossing both to the floor. Seeing her naked in front of him, he almost lost it. He wasn't ready to lose it, though, to lose that time with her. He moved and dipped his head, smelling her. He let his tongue trace her slit slowly and he came up to suck at the nub that she tried to touch with her fingers. When he did, she moaned out and bucked, her arms going back and her hands tangling in her hair.

He repleated the action, this time letting the tip of his tongue flick at the spot as he sucked it. She responded with a louder moan than before and he held her hips to keep her from escaping him.

"You like that, huh?" He asked.

She was panting, her eyes closed. She didn't say anything, but she did moan in the affirmative and he returned to repeat the action, feeling himself grow harder every time that she responded to him. Finally, she whined and the whine broke into a cry as she trembled against him. He moved then, coming back up over her and he kissed her throat again before bringing his lips to hers. She panted into his mouth, but met the kiss, moaning.

Daryl rolled the condom on anyway, figuring that since he'd bought them he might as well use them. He kissed her again as he pushed himself into her and he felt her quake a second again. Out of curiosity, entirely, he dropped his hand between them to tease the nub that he now that was some kind of magic button. She jerked again and wrapped her arms around him, whining. He smiled, very happy to discover the magic qualities of this button.

He turned his attention, then to himself, still careful to keep teasing the spot from time to time that seemed to distract her entirely every time he touched it. He felt his release building, and just before it did, she whined again, bringing her mouth to his chest. He felt her teeth scraping against him as she cried out into his skin and her muscles squeezed around him more forcefully than they had before. He came, then, unable to hold back his own cry.

Once their link had been broken, Daryl lie beside her in the bed, both of them panting. He reached over, putting his hand on the soft skin of her stomach and let it rest there. She intertwined her fingers with his.

He felt like they should talk, but he didn't know what to say. The more he ran words over and over in his mind, the more they just didn't seem like the right ones. By the time he rolled a little to see if she wanted to talk, she appeared to be asleep. He smiled and leaned a little, gently kissing her jaw. He decided to leave the lamp on, not wanting to wake her in his attempt to switch it off.


	40. Chapter 40

**AN: I have to say thank you again to everyone.**

**I'm really surprised by this story. I was nervous about writing it because it's AU, and I just didn't know if anyone would be interested in something completely AU like this. It's very encouraging to see that you all seem to really like it!**

**So here we go. This might be my last update for a bit while I turn some attention to my other neglected stories, but I'll be back, no worries!**

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When Daryl rolled over, stretching his back a little, it took him a second to remember exactly where he was and what was going on. He rolled to the side and opened his eyes to see Carol staring back at him, lying on her side with her head resting on her hand, her elbow holding her up.

She smiled at him.

"Morning, sleepy head," she said.

Daryl didn't feel like he'd slept too long. It seemed dark in the apartment still. He moaned a little, still coming to.

"Mornin'," he said, smiling. "What time is it?" He had to go to work, and as much as he hated leaving where he was right now, he didn't want to be too late and possibly irritate Hershel.

"It's OK," Carol said softly. "It's still early. You've got time."

Daryl became aware, then, that they weren't alone. He looked down at the mattress and the damn little puppy was curled up, sleeping, right against Carol. She smiled at him, rubbing her finger over the puppy's back.

"What's the damn dog doin' in the bed?" Daryl asked.

Carol narrowed her eyes at him.

"Shhh…don't say that," she said. "He was sad. It was his first night away from his mommy and his brothers and sisters. He was crying and needed to sleep here."

Daryl eyed the dog and sighed. The furry little bastard was sleeping peacefully, not even aware that he was right in the middle of them and definitely blocking any hope of morning sex. Still, he figured he'd give the fur ball a break. It had gotten him back here, and that was something he'd been failing at up to now.

"Fine," Daryl said, "how long have you had him up here?"

Carol smiled at him and turned her attention back to gently rubbing the puppy.

"A little while," she said. "I couldn't sleep and he started crying, so I took him out and then I brought him in here with me."

"Ya went outside in the dark?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

"I didn't go far. Just to the grass," she said.

Daryl assumed there wasn't much to worry about. Ed was in prison at county, wherever the hell that was. Michonne spoke about it often, but he'd started to think of it like Oz.

"What do you think…" Carol said, "about the name Lincoln?"

Daryl didn't care. He honestly didn't care one damn bit what she wanted to name the dog. She seemed to care, though, and she seemed to care that he cared about it. He moaned a little.

"Ya like it?" He asked.

She nodded, smiling at him again.

"Then it's fuckin' perfect," Daryl said.

Carol giggled.

"Do you want breakfast?" She asked. "I know Michonne bought stuff for pancakes. I don't know if I have link sausages, but I can check."

Daryl smiled at her, still trying to wake up entirely. He chuckled a little. He couldn't believe that she still remembered them talking about pancakes and link sausage even though she'd been in some kind of medicine cloud.

"Yeah," he said. "Breakfast is good."

"Yeah?" She asked. She leaned over, kissing him and he moaned into her mouth wishing that they were going somewhere else with this but knowing that she was about to get up and make breakfast and then he was going to Hershel's farm.

Carol pulled away, then, and got out of bed. Daryl was surprised when she slid the puppy, Lincoln they were apparently going to call him, against him and the dog whined a little and settled back down with a sigh.

"I'm going to start breakfast, you stay here and cuddle until it's ready," Carol said.

Daryl watched as Carol dressed in pajamas and he settled into the realization that he was expected to lie here and _cuddle_ with the puppy. Carol left the room and Daryl listened as she wrestled around in the kitchen, the clinking of pots and pans going on.

"I've got bacon, but not sausage," Carol called. "Is bacon OK or do you want me to see if Andrea has any sausage?"

"Bacon's fine," Daryl responded.

Daryl lie there for a few minutes with Lincoln next to him. He wasn't sure about this. How was it that the little dog had weaseled its way into the bed? And how was it that he was supposed to be cuddling with it right now? He sighed and crawled out of the bed, pulling on his underwear and pants. He needed to get a clean shirt at least from across the hall at some point. He passed into the kitchen and sat at the table watching as Carol went about making breakfast.

"Where's Lincoln?" She asked, turning to look at him.

Daryl was still adjusting to the fact that the household now held an all-important member and this member's name was Lincoln. He shrugged a little.

"Still in the bed," Daryl said.

Carol rested her hand on her hip for a second.

"Well will you go get him?" She asked. "He could fall out of the bed. He's too little to get down off of it. He probably needs to go outside, too. Would you mind taking him out?"

Daryl sighed. She was making breakfast, the least he could do was take the dog out he supposed. He could get a shirt on his way out anyway.

"Fine," he said. He passed back into the bedroom and scooped up the dog.

"His leash is by the door," Carol said when Daryl passed back through with the dog in his arms. "Thank you!"

"Yeah, no problem," Daryl said. He ignored the fact that he hadn't bothered with his shoes, grabbed the leash, and decided to stop across the hall for a shirt before he slipped down the stairs with Lincoln, who was now whining again, in tow.

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Daryl followed Lincoln around while the puppy bounded through grass that was far taller than he was. It itched on Daryl's feet, and he started to wonder for the first time why it was that their landlord was an asshole that wouldn't even cut the grass before it started to look like the Amazon out there.

Lincoln was taking his sweet time, nose to the ground, plowing through the tall grass. Daryl was sure that the dog had been quicker going for the women. It was almost like he knew that Daryl just had to suffer through this because Carol would somehow _know_ if he didn't let the dog finish his business at his own speed.

When the dog was finally done, Daryl snatched him up before he had time to do much more than look at Daryl like he expected him to cheer for him like Carol and Andrea had done the night before. He carried the wiggly creature up the stairs and stepped back into Carol's apartment, putting the dog on the floor and unhooking the leash.

"Was it wet?" Carol asked.

"Huh?" Daryl asked.

"Was the grass wet?" Carol asked.

"No," Daryl said, shaking his head.

The puppy bounded around his feet and Daryl kept stepping around it. Michonne had brought the dog a whole damn toy store of toys to play with, but right now it seemed much more interested in trying to bite the bottom of Daryl's pants leg.

"Sit down," Carol commanded. "Your breakfast is almost done."

Daryl sat in his chair and ignored the little dog that kept pulling at his pants and trying to drag his foot away, not realizing that it lacked the strength necessary to move Daryl at all.

Carol brought Daryl breakfast and then went back to get her own. He was already eating by the time that she sat down.

"Good," he mumbled.

She smiled and cut off a piece of her pancake, holding it down and offering it to Lincoln. He lost interest in Daryl's pants leg and came over, taking an unusually long amount of time to decide if he wanted to taste the pancake bit. Finally Carol put it on the floor and left it there for him to decide while she ate.

"Dog's gon' eat pancakes now?" Daryl asked, his mouth full.

Carol shrugged.

"It's just a taste. He went outside, he should get a treat," she said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Don't'cha think ya might be a little too excited 'bout the dog?" Daryl asked.

"Lincoln," Carol corrected. "Everyone has to use his name so he starts to get used to it."

"Lincoln," Daryl said. "Don't'cha think ya might be a little too excited 'bout Lincoln? I mean he's just a hound dog."

"He's not a hound dog!" Carol protested.

Daryl chucked again and nodded.

"Yep…yeah he is," Daryl said. "Ain't nothin' bad really, but he is a hound dog."

Carol looked over the side of the table at Lincoln who had decided the piece of pancake was of really no interest to him. Nose to the floor he was now beginning to explore the area more. Daryl watched him too and when he looked back at Carol she looked like she was pouting over her breakfast. He immediately knew that he'd done something wrong.

"What's the matter with ya?" He asked.

"Why are you being mean to Lincoln?" Carol asked. "Why did you get him if you don't like him?"

Daryl felt sorry for teasing her. He reached his hand across the table and tapped her arm.

"Don't be sore," he said. "I was teasin' ya. Ya wanna be excited about Lincoln then ya go ahead an' be excited 'bout him."

Carol didn't look fully like she believed him, but she did halfheartedly smile. He decided not to tease her too much. Apparently Lincoln wasn't territory for teasing.

"I've got to take him to the vet today," Carol said. "He'll need his shots, and I need to make an appointment to get him fixed while he's little."

Daryl coughed a little.

"Ya mean ya gonna cut off his nuts?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him and he didn't like the way she was smiling.

"He's little. He's not going to miss them and he doesn't need to be sniffing around and looking for girlfriends when he gets older," Carol said.

Daryl shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Lincoln," he said to the puppy that was nosing through the pile of toys that Michonne had gotten him and not paying them a bit more attention than a man in the moon. "I ain't had nothin' ta do with the fact that she's plannin' on cuttin' ya nuts off."

"Daryl!" Carol scolded.

Daryl chuckled.

"Sorry, but it's important that he know that as a man I ain't behind that shit," Daryl said. "You the one that's scissor happy."

"It's not like he knows," Carol said.

Daryl chuckled again and went back to his breakfast. He figured that if the conversation had gone in this direction it would be better for him to eat his food and get out of there before she got any other ideas.

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Daryl sat on the tailgate of his truck eating the sandwiches that Miss Jo brought him for lunch. He nodded as Hershel came out, carrying his own lunch.

"Mind if I join you, son?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head and Hershel hoisted himself onto the back of the truck with a little more effort than it usually took Daryl to get up there. Hershel took a bite of one of his sandwiches.

"You know," Hershel said, "when I was even younger than you I used to eat on the back of my daddy's truck with him while we took lunch."

Daryl nodded.

"How's that old truck you got running for you?" Hershel asked.

"She's a good truck," Daryl said.

"I just never see you driving her," Hershel said. "I didn't know if she let you down."

Daryl shook his head.

"I give her ta Carol," Daryl said. He knew that Hershel knew about what had happened to Carol. Apparently the whole town knew about it and talked about it all the time. It was the most exciting thing to talk about from what Daryl could tell. Daryl didn't mind talking to Hershel about Carol either. Since the whole thing happened he hadn't felt the need to hide the fact that he went over to Michonne's to see her after work, and Hershel even let him off early some days just to go.

Daryl wasn't sure if he could call what he had with Carol a relationship or not, but he was certain that Hershel knew there was something there.

"That was mighty nice of you," Hershel said.

Daryl shrugged.

"She needed a truck," Daryl said. "She ain't had no way ta get nowhere an' she didn't need ta feel like she was always havin' ta ask for people ta do for her. Now she can go anywhere she needs ta go."

"Still," Hershel said, "a lot of people would have just kept it for themselves if it runs."

"Weren't for me anyway," Daryl said, finishing one of the sandwiches and unwrapping the second from the paper towel. "Ya ever had a dog?" Daryl asked, chewing a bite of the second sandwich.

"Not in a while," Hershel said. "We have some barn cats now, you've probably seen them."

Daryl nodded. One of the barn cats was lazy and fat because it had eaten twice what it should have in field mice. The other one, the black one, was a hell cat and damn near clawed his eyes out one day when he heaved up a hay bale without realizing she was behind it. Damn near scared them both to death.

"Why, son? You thinking about getting a dog?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Carol's got a damn hound now," he said. "She's 'bout crazy over that thing an' I don't know if it's normal."

Hershel chuckled.

"Let me tell you the story of the Roscoes," Hershel said.

"The Roscoes?" Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded, taking a drink from the mason jar of sweet tea he'd rested on the bed beside him.

"When I first got married to Jo," Hershel said, "her uncle gave is this black and white dog. It was a Collie. Jo loved that thing. She got it two days after we got back from our honeymoon and I was pretty sure that she loved the dog more than she loved me."

Daryl nodded a little, but didn't interrupt Hershel since it was clear that his story wasn't done.

"So Jo babied this little dog just like he was a kid. I swear when Shawn was born she was only just a little more taken with him than she was with that dog, though Shawn came along a few years later. Anyway, Daryl, she named the little dog Rosco."

Hershel paused and chewed a bite of his sandwich and Daryl waited.

"So one day I come in the house and Jo, she was working then at the feed store in town, well she wasn't home that day. So I come in the house and Rosco was dead in the kitchen floor. I don't know what happened to him. Don't know if he had a heart attack or ate something, but he was dead. I panicked. I knew that it was going to break Jo's heart that the little thing was dead," Hershel said.

"So what'd ya do?" Daryl asked.

Hershel chuckled.

"I did what any reasonable man in love would do. I drove all over Sweet Junction and half the surrounding area that day, after burying Rosco of course, until I found another dog that looked just like him. I pulled up in the yard with the dog and told Jo I took him driving," Hershel said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Did she buy it?" Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded a little.

"That isn't the best of it," Hershel said.

Daryl smiled and waited to hear what the old man was going to say next.

"So Rosco eventually became a farm dog as much as anything else. He'd go out with me to work and come in at night. And Jo, she worshipped the dog. She'd do anything just to make that dog happy. As it turns out, though, one day Rosco got in a bad way with some of the cows and he got trampled pretty badly. Wasn't going to pull through, and there was nothing to be done about it. By that time, Shawn had been born and Jo was out of town visiting her Mama with the baby. So once again, I buried old Rosco and I went and scoured the area. It was harder that time, though, because Rosco was older and he was smarter. I found a dog that looked a lot like him, though, paid the man three times what the dog was worth, and brought it home," Hershel said.

Daryl chuckled.

"And she bought it that time too?" He asked.

Hershel nodded and laughed a little.

"So here I was, thinking I was a clever fellow. Jo fawned over our brand new baby boy, and she still had her beloved Rosco and was none the wiser to the fact that I had buried two Roscoes by the old fence line out there. That was, until one night. Rosco hadn't been out with me at all to check on the cows, and he wasn't in the house when I got in from work. Jo was doing something with the baby, so I slipped out to see if I couldn't find the dog, scared to death that I was going to have to either find another Rosco or finally break Jo's heart and tell her that Rosco was gone," Hershel said.

"Did ya find Rosco?" Daryl asked.

"I did. I found Rosco in the barn. In the corner of the barn was an old shredded up quilt folded up, and big as day there was Rosco laying on that blanket with all five of _his_ puppies," Hershel said, laughing. "I never even knew that the third Rosco was a girl until then. Of course, later, Jo came out while I was trying to figure out what to do about Rosco's children. I thought she was going to freak out, but she just smiled at me, the way she always does when something falls apart. She told me that she'd put the blanket out there for Rosco's pups. She told me that she'd known all along about the Roscoes, and she still keeps up with the little headstones she made for all three of them to this day."

Daryl shook his head a little.

"So she knowed all along that Rosco weren't Rosco?" Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded.

"She did. She said she knew right away when she met the second Rosco that something had happened, but she figured that it meant so much to me that she wasn't going to say a thing. Then when the third Rosco turned out to be a girl, she kept that to herself too. Jo knew about the Roscoes, but I wouldn't have ever known she knew if the final of the Roscoes hadn't had pups," Hershel said. "Thing is, Daryl, that women go crazy over things like that. They're like babies, but for as crazy as they seem sometimes, women tend to have it better together than even we do."

Daryl nodded and smiled.

"I hope nothin' don't happen ta Lincoln," Daryl said. "I ain't tryin' ta find no more hound dogs 'round this place."

Hershel laughed again.

"I don't recommend the practice of the Roscoes. It would have been easier to just tell Jo. In hindsight I know she would have understood," Hershel said. "What'd ya say the hound's name was, son?"

"Lincoln," Daryl said.

Hershel nodded and eased himself off the tailgate.

"Well, I'm sure that however she's acting with Lincoln is just like she should be acting," Hershel said. "Just remember, she's never as crazy as you think she is, you just don't think the same way that she does."

Daryl nodded and balled up the paper towels in his hand. He hopped off the back of the truck and took the jar of sweet tea he had, chugging down the rest. He started toward the house after Hershel to throw away the trash and return the jar.

"Should I say somethin' ta Miss Jo 'bout the Roscoes?" Daryl asked, chuckling.

Hershel turned around and looked at him.

"It's best to let sleeping Roscoes lie, boy," Hershel said.

Daryl smiled to himself. He would let Carol act as crazy as she wanted over Lincoln, if that's what made her happy. He hoped he never had to get wrapped up in something quite as crazy as the Rosco situation, but strangely he didn't see the story as being something that he couldn't see himself getting tangled up in too. He chuckled, though, realizing how much trouble Hershel must have gone through to find matching Roscoes, and all the time Miss Jo had never let him know that she was in on his secret. Daryl could imagine her, smiling at him the way she always did, and all the while knowing that he was trying to pull the wool over her eyes with a brand new dog.

Daryl was starting to realize this relationship stuff was a lot more complicated than it looked. Andrea was right, from the outside, people made it look easy, but things weren't always what they seemed.


	41. Chapter 41

When Daryl got home from work, he found that Carol's truck was gone. She was apparently out, so he let himself into his apartment and looked around. Merle wasn't home from work yet and Andrea was gone, either already at the Watering Hole or out doing whatever it was that Andrea did when she wasn't in the apartment.

Daryl opened up the refrigerator more out of boredom than any genuine interest in the shanty contents and plucked the container of orange juice out. He drank down about the half the contents of the carton, put it back in the refrigerator and went to take a shower, hoping that Carol would be home by the time he got out.

When Daryl got out of the shower and got dressed, he noticed that Merle had at least been there temporarily, which meant either someone had dropped him off or Andrea had gone to pick him up, because he'd left his shoes in the hallway almost in front of the bathroom door. Daryl kicked them out of the way and shook his head at the comparison of their apartment and Carol's.

Carol's apartment was clean. Everything in there smelled nice and there wasn't much on the floor other than the toys from the day before that they'd bought for Lincoln, and that was only really owing to the fact, Daryl reasoned, that the puppy was short and lacked the thumbs necessary to neatly put away his things.

All three of them had thumbs, though, and their apartment looked like a disaster area. Once or twice he'd caught Andrea making a few attempts at cleaning, but she'd given it up almost as suddenly as she'd begun. Daryl wasn't really sure if it was owing to the fact that she didn't like to clean, or if it was one of those things where she thought that trying to clean their apartment would be about as useless as drying off in the rain.

Daryl opened the door to the apartment and crossed the hall. He knocked at the door and waited, hoping that Carol had made it home in his absence. He entertained himself, for a moment, by peeling some of the paint off of the door frame where it had started to stand up, and then he jumped when the door swung open and Carol was standing there.

Daryl knew immediately that something was wrong, but he had no idea what it was. Carol was puffy eyed, and she only got that way when she was crying about something. These days it seemed that she had a lot of random fits of crying, though, and most of the time she was never very good at identifying exactly why she was crying. Lincoln, however, was supposed to put a stop to that as far as Daryl understood it.

"What's wrong with ya?" Daryl asked.

Carol didn't respond. She slung the door open the rest of the way and turned around, heading into the kitchen. Daryl followed her inside and watched her as she fiddled with a tea kettle that was on the stove. Daryl looked around the room for the puppy, deciding to offer the thing up as some sort of sacrifice to whatever woman god it was that made the sobbing stop.

"Where's Lincoln?" He asked, confused that the puppy didn't seem to be bounding around anywhere.

"They kept him," Carol said, her voice low and shaky.

"Who kept him?" Daryl asked, a little annoyed. He didn't know who had kept Carol's puppy, but he could solve this shit. He could go and get her puppy back. It was hers and no one had any right to keep it.

"The vet," Carol said. "They said they could fix him this evening, but they're keeping him overnight. They said I could pick him up in the morning."

Daryl thought about it for a moment and it seemed reasonable.

"So ya go an' get him in the mornin' then. I ain't gotta work tomorrow, I'll go with ya," he said. "Why ya cryin' 'bout it?"

"I miss him," she said.

Daryl chuckled a little, watching her making a cup of tea.

"Ya ain't had him not two days, Carol, how much can ya miss him?" Daryl asked.

Carol turned around to look at him, the mug in her hands. Her eyes brimming with tears. Apparently less than two days was plenty of time to miss Lincoln.

Daryl walked over and took the mug out of her hand so that she couldn't scald him with the liquid. He put it on the counter and wrapped his arm around, her pulling her to him.

"It's one night, Carol," Daryl said. "Dog's gonna live like ten years or somethin' like that. Ya gonna have plenty of nights with him."

"Ten years?" Carol asked, pulling away from him.

"I try ta be fuckin' inspirational an' that's the shit ya latch onto," Daryl said with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," Carol said, wiping at her eyes. "I just really don't like leaving him there. He's going to be lonely tonight."

"Are ya upset that he's gonna be lonely or ya upset that you gon' miss him? 'Cause I reckon they knock him out ta cut his jewels off if they got any decency at all so he prob'ly ain't gonna know no different," Daryl said.

"OK," Carol said. She picked up her mug and dropped the tea bag in the sink. "Maybe I'm a little sadder for me."

Daryl chuckled a little.

"What time does the fuckin' place open tomorrow?" Daryl asked.

"Eight," Carol said.

"Then we'll be there at a quarter 'til," Daryl said. "Ya can have ya dog back. 'Til then, though, ya gotta stop snottin' on yaself, deal?"

Carol nodded.

"What do you want to do?" She asked. "I don't want to just sit here or I'm going to be thinking about him all alone in some cage."

Daryl smiled. He was pretty sure, judging by Carol's current demeanor, that what he wanted to do wasn't the appropriate answer to this question, so he decided not to say it.

"Don't care," he said. "What can we do in this town when we ain't got nothin' else ta keep us busy?"

Carol sipped at her tea and obviously thought about it. There really wasn't much to do in town and Daryl knew that by now. The place was just a heartbeat above dead, and that was putting it nicely.

"I don't know," Carol said finally. "I don't really feel like doing anything."

Daryl shook his head.

"Ya just said ya wanted ta do somethin' an' now ya don't wanna do nothin'," Daryl said. "How am I s'posed ta win that one?"

Carol chuckled a little at him.

"Come on," Daryl said. "I'm goin' ta get my shoes. When I get back ya better be ready, we goin' ridin'."

"Where are we going?" Carol asked.

"The hell do it matter?" Daryl asked. "We just goin' an' we gon' see where the hell we end up!"

He turned and quickly walked out of the apartment, crossing the hall in search of his shoes.

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Daryl slipped his arm around Carol's shoulder and teased her right shoulder with his fingertips. In response she slid closer to him and he wrapped his arm tighter around her. He couldn't help but smile and she was in a little better spirits just for being out of the apartment.

They were driving on some back road and Daryl honestly didn't have a clue where they were or how they were going to get back, but he figured those were just the details that could be worked out later. For now they were just burning gas and killing a little time riding through the Georgia countryside just before sunset started.

"Do you even know where we are?" Carol asked after a bit. Daryl shook his head and squeezed her tighter to him so she rested her head on his chest.

"Not a damn clue," he said. "Wouldn't be half surprised if we drove all the fuckin' way to a whole nother state!"

Carol giggled.

"We've got to get home by a quarter to seven, though," Carol said.

"We'll get there," Daryl said, "don't'cha worry 'bout that."

Finally, after a good while of driving, just as the sun was really beginning to set and the surroundings were starting to go dark, Daryl figured it was time for them to turn around. He hadn't made a very complicated trip out of it, so he was fairly certain that he could find his way back by simply going straight until things started to look familiar, at least to one of them.

He pulled the truck roughly off the road and into a field to turn around Carol squealed at the way the truck bounced. Daryl laughed and turned the truck quickly, stopping it a moment before he pulled back on the road.

"Guess this is the end a' the road," he said. "We'll turn back an' head for civilization."

He looked at Carol and she was smiling at him, her excitement over the jarring motion of the truck still evident on her face. She leaned in and kissed him. He returned the kiss, turning his body a little so that he had better access to her and so that she could lean in deeper.

Carol pulled away after teasing him with her tongue for a few minutes and tugged her shirt over her head. Daryl grinned at her.

"The hell ya doin'?" He asked.

"Did you ever go parking, Daryl?" Carol asked.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. She knew he'd never been parking. Who the fuck was he going parking with? Most of the time he spent in the damn truck was with Merle.

Carol smiled at him, then, the real kind where she bit the end of her tongue. He smiled in response.

"Ya know I never fuckin' been parkin'," Daryl said.

He watched as Carol got up on her knees on the seat, flicking her shoes off quickly and dropping them in the foot.

"Me either," she said.

Daryl didn't want to admit it, but her sitting there on her knees with just her shoes and her shirt off, smiling like she'd just thought of something that was either the best plan in the world or possibly the most evil plan in the whole world was possibly the hottest thing that Daryl could imagine. He'd already gone hard, and he thought he might be a little embarrassed if she knew how uncomfortable his pants were while he was sitting there.

"Well," Carol said after a minute, "aren't you going to take your clothes off, or am I going to be the only one?"

She leaned up on her knees and unbuttoned her pants. Daryl chuckled at her and quickly shed his shirt, shifting his weight around so that he could come up and kiss her again, pushing her down. She squealed and almost banged her head on the window.

"There ain't much room in here," Daryl said. He knew his erection was digging into her now through his pants.

"There's enough," she said. "We'll make it work."

Daryl chuckled and leaned off of her enough to wrestle out of his own pants. She took the opportunity to get hers as far off as she could, taking her panties with them so as to save them a later wrestling problem. Daryl helped her wrestle hers the rest of the way off and decided just to move his boxers down for practicality purposes.

"Don't know how good I'm gonna be at this," Daryl said with a snicker. He dipped his head and sucked at her breasts, realizing immediately how cramped they really were. Carol was already breathing heavy, though, and Daryl wondered how much of the work she was doing in her own head.

"Look at it this way," she panted, "you're going to be the best I've had."

Daryl kissed her neck and gently nibbled at it and she threw her head back to give him access. He wrestled his arm between them, her legs already wrapped around him mostly due to lack of space, and searched for the button he'd found before. Finding it he rubbed it, teasing her.

Carol moaned and he rubbed his hand down, slipping a finger into her and teasing her more, bringing out more of the moaning.

"I hope we don't get caught," he teased. "We ain't gon' be able ta cover this shit up."

Carol laughed, her head still thrown back and then she came up, kissing him in the darkness that was settling around them.

"Go ahead, Daryl," she said. He teased her again with his hand, distracting her for a second and she bit her lip. "I'm ready, go ahead," she panted.

Daryl slipped his hand out of her and did his best to support his weight on the seat with other one, guiding himself into her. He thrust into her and she wiggled under him, finally meeting his movements with her own. He worried, as he felt himself building up, that he was going to leave her disappointed. She wasn't making the sounds she'd made before and that was all he had to go on at this point. Finally, though, and just before he'd given up hope, she cried out and he felt her fingernails rake across his back as she pulsed around him. Less than a moment later he spilled inside of her and then fell against her, quickly trying to lift himself off her for fear or squishing her.

Carol panted and tangled one hand into her hair. Daryl leaned in and kissed her, both of them panting into each other's mouths as they tried to steady their breathing and still enjoy the kiss between them. Finally, Daryl pulled himself up onto his knees and Carol moved back, sitting with her back against the passenger side door, still panting.

"Was that alright?" Daryl asked, starting to get dressed and noticing it was much easier to dress while sitting up than it had been to undress in the position they had chosen earlier.

"Mmm…hmmm," Carol hummed. She dressed herself and ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at some of her curls. "I'd say it was pretty much as good as I can imagine."

Daryl chuckled a little and cranked the truck.

"Best parkin' I've ever done too," he said.

Carol snickered a little and set about tying her shoes.

"Hold on," Daryl said, pulling the truck back onto the road. She laughed again at the bump when they made contact with the asphalt.

Daryl started back in the direction that they'd come and waited patiently for Carol to finish tying her shoes and to slide back against him.

"Hope ya was payin' attention," he said. "Otherwise we might not make it back 'til about quarter ta eight."

Carol giggled and snuggled into him rubbing her face against his chest. She yawned.

"That'll be fine," she said. "We can just go directly to the vet's office, then, and sleep when we get home."

"You think that dog's sleepin' in the bed again, don't'cha?" Daryl asked.

"Just for a little while," Carol said, rubbing her hand over his chest and teasing his nipples through his shirt, making him jump. "He's having surgery, Daryl. And he's spending the night away from home. He's going to need a little extra attention tomorrow."

Daryl chucked and squeezed her against him. He knew he wasn't going to win this fight. The only hope he really had was that he could convince her that the dog, since it was clearly going to get the lion's share of the bed, had to at least be willing to get on the floor from time to time or else they were going to end up filling the truck up with gas a whole lot more than he'd ever intended before.


	42. Chapter 42

Daryl carried all the bags of groceries up the steps in one load. He hated having to make more than one trip. He kicked the door when he got to the apartment and heard Lincoln yip and howl from inside. They'd picked the dog up that morning and besides the fact that he seemed a little drunk, he was no worse for the wear, but Carol was still insisting that he'd been through a traumatic experience and needed a lot of attention.

As a result, Daryl had been sent out for groceries. They were having tacos and every type of junk food known to man and they were staying in for the night so that Carol could nurse Lincoln to her heart's content. Their plan was to find a movie or two on television and make a night of pigging out and watching television. Daryl was sure, if he could coax the puppy into sleeping off his trauma, they might be able to do a little more on the couch.

Carol opened the door and Lincoln slipped out, sniffing around in the hall and sniffing around Daryl as he pushed his way through the door with all the bags.

"Come on, Lincoln, come back in," Carol said to the dog.

Daryl unloaded the bags on the table for Carol to go through and turned to watch her trying to coax the puppy back in the door. He was apparently not paying her as much attention as she would like at first, finding the hallway to be one of interesting smells. Daryl chuckled to himself. That whole building smelled pretty interesting and he couldn't even begin to think what it might smell like to Lincoln.

"Come on, Lincoln, back inside," Carol urged again, following the puppy in the odd circle he was making in the hallway.

"Can't hear ya," Daryl said. "Got too much damn ears ta be able ta hear nothin'."

Carol eyed him and went back to urging the puppy. Finally, Lincoln apparently decided there was more of interest in the apartment and he bounded in, past Daryl. Carol followed him in a moment later, smiling.

"See, he listens," she said.

"Dog weren't a bit more listenin' ta ya than a man in the moon," Daryl said. "He just come in 'cause somethin' in here was better than somethin' out there."

"That's not true," Carol said. "Lincoln's good, he just needs a little more practice."

Daryl chuckled again, shaking his head, and closed the door. Carol had turned her attention, now, to going through the bags of food and he sat on the arm of the couch where he could watch her.

"You like tacos, right?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded.

"Only thing I don't like outta them bags is onions," Daryl said.

Carol looked at him.

"No onions it is, then," she said. "Lincoln acts like he's feeling a little bit better."

Daryl grunted. The dog was laying on the floor right now, about a half a foot from the bed that he was supposed to laying on, and looking at the bottom of the couch. He didn't think the dog acted like it felt bad even when they picked it up, but apparently he wasn't sensitive enough to the way the dog expressed itself.

There was a knock at the door and Licoln's head perked up and he howled. Daryl got up to open the door.

"I hope his howlin' ain't always that pathetic soundin'," Daryl said, swinging the door open.

Merle was standing there, leaning in the doorway.

"Where's Andrea?" Merle asked.

Lincoln started to bound out the door again and Daryl reached down, scooping up the wiggling dog to keep Carol from having to chase after it insisting that he was a well behaved dog.

"How'm I s'posed ta know?" Daryl asked. "If she ain't home, she'll be home. Ain't like she dropped by here ta get permission ta go nowhere."

Merle narrowed his eyes at Daryl a little and leaned inside the apartment to watch Carol who was already working on getting their dinner ready.

"Where ya been all damn day?" Merle asked.

"Went ta get the dog this mornin'," Daryl said. "She had 'em cut his nuts off an' he got ta come home today. We been here other than that. I went ta buy food but it ain't took me too long."

Merle nodded, sucking his teeth a little.

"Ya been here, just wrapped up with the damn dog all day?" Merle asked.

"The dog," Carol said without looking up from what she was doing, "is named Lincoln. He had surgery yesterday and he's been a little disoriented so I've been here all day to make sure he's OK."

Merle smirked at Daryl who was still holding Lincoln.

"What the hell kinda name is Lincoln for a hound?" Merle asked. "Prob'ly why he's got that damn girly bark…that an' ya done gone and done a pisser thing like cut off his balls."

"He'll grow into his bark," Carol said. "I bet the way you cry now and the way you cried as a baby were different."

"Ehhh…" Merle drawled, "could be, 'cept I ain't the cryin' kind." He turned regarding Daryl for a moment. "Come on, Derlina, we goin' out. I think ya need a man's night ta get away from all this girly shit. She'll be paintin' ya damn toenails soon."

Daryl looked toward Carol. She didn't look at him at all.

"We gon' watch a movie tonight," Daryl said. "Carol's makin' dinner right now too."

"So?" Merle asked. "Leftovers will be here when ya get back an' ya oughta spend some time with ya brothah. Ya need a lil' manly influence in ya life."

"You can go, Daryl, if you want to," Carol said. "There will be plenty of food leftover and there's always something to watch on television."

Carol put down her knife then and wiped her hands on her pants legs. She walked over to the door and took Lincoln out of Daryl's arms. Daryl looked at her, trying to determine if she was serious or not. He didn't really want to go with Merle, but he also didn't want to put up with the harassment that would follow if he were to refuse his offer. Carol didn't look mad, though, that he was changing plans. She was busy kissing Lincoln behind the ear and eying Daryl over the top of the dog's head.

"Ya sure?" Daryl asked, hoping that she'd say she really needed him to stay with her. She nodded instead.

"Go," she said. "It'll be good for you. A little male bonding time, or whatever it is you guys do."

Daryl shrugged a little.

"We can do the movie thing another night," he said, feeling guilty now for not staying.

Carol smiled.

"Any time," she said.

Daryl turned his attention back to Merle.

"What about Andrea?" Daryl asked. "Ya ain't gon' tell her that ya goin' out?"

"Andrea don't boss me," Merle said. "She'll see I ain't at the fuckin' apartment an' I reckon she'll be smart enough ta figure I done left."

Daryl chewed at his thumbnail. He supposed there was nothing wrong with going out with Merle and Carol seemed alright with it. He thought about it a moment longer and then followed Merle out the door. He wanted to kiss Carol goodbye, but he really wasn't up for hearing Merle's mouth, so he decided to skip it just this time.

"Yeah…" Merle said when Daryl was following him down the steps. "That's what ya need, lil' brothah…some time ta spend with ole Merle…"

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Daryl sat in the booth at the Water Ho and tried to figure out, for about the second hour as far as he could figure, exactly how he'd ended up here. Merle was across from him, drinking steady shots from a whiskey bottle. Daryl had probably taken four or so, but he wasn't feeling anything whereas his brother seemed to be feeling quite sodden.

Merle had insisted on a booth. He had to talk to Daryl…that was essentially what he had said…about his life and what he was doing with it. Daryl hadn't heard too much come out of his brother's mouth, though, except an appreciation of Mary Ann Walsh's ass and some discussion about the size of Loretta's tits.

"What are we doin' here Merle," Daryl asked. Right now he could be eating tacos and watching television curled on the couch with Carol and that sounded a whole hell of a lot better than sipping stale whiskey at a booth that leaned slightly in a bar with all the other sorry assholes that had no better place to be after a workday. "It's my damn day off."

"Ya damn day off, an' what tha hell was ya doin' with it anyway, boy? Makin' kissy faces at that damn woman?" Merle chuckled and took another shot. "She had that dog's nuts cut off, an' ya best take that as a warnin' boy, she'll do the same ta you if ya give her half a chance."

Daryl plucked a cigarette out of his pocket, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Shows ya how damn much ya know, Merle," Daryl said.

"What'cha think ya doin' boy? Playin' house with that woman? Rollin' around with stinkin' hounds an' shit? Ya gon' tell me that she's done whipped ya?" Merle asked. "Ya done tryin' ta shack up with her an' ya don't even know her. She's had ya eatin' outta her hand an' ya ain't even gettin' no pussy from her."

Daryl rolled his eyes at his brother. His only hope, really, at this moment was that Merle might drink too much and pass out. He was considering asking Loretta to just let him sleep it off overnight there, locked in the roach infested bar. Maybe that would cook his jets a little.

Merle might think that he and Carol weren't having sex with each other, but Daryl knew it wasn't true, and frankly he didn't care if Merle knew about it or not. He didn't think it was much of Merle's business what they did together, and Merle wasn't invited to be there when they did decide they wanted to enjoy each other's company in that way.

"I thought ya might be a Dixon, boy, that night ya come rollin' in with that little piece over there. I was kinda proud of ya, but then ya let me down. Ya ain't even knowed how ta take care a' her. Damn, I might just have ta take her home with me ta keep ya from soilin' the family name so damn bad."

Daryl rolled his eyes again, sliding the shot glass on the table back and forth between both of his hands.

"I'm sure Andrea would get a hoot outta that," Daryl said.

"Andrea don't matter ta me one damn bit, boy. Ain't her place no way," Merle said.

"She's livin' there," Daryl said. "Last accounts I had she was the one that paid the electric bill an' I ain't bought them groceries ya been eatin'."

"I ain't asked her ta move her ass in there. That's what a woman'll do if ya ain't payin' enough attention. Thinks she can move in on ya, a lil' bit at a time, 'til she's got'cha pegged down or somethin'. Andrea ain't peggin' my ass no damn farther. You, though, Daryl, you 'bout ta get'cha ass good an' nailed down if ya don't open ya eyes an' see it comin'," Merle said, pouring himself another shot.

Daryl reached across the table and grabbed the bottle, pouring himself another shot as well. Merle was drinking because Merle always drank when there was something on his mind. Daryl was drinking in the hope to escape whatever was on Merle's mind.

"Ya did ask her ta move in, I 'member it," Daryl said. "I reckon she ain't done nothin' all that sneaky. She did 'xactly what ya ass told her ta do."

Merle chuckled a little, sucking at his teeth and took another shot, gazing out at the smoky bar. Daryl wasn't sure if he was looking at Mary Ann, at the people playing a sorry game of pool, or just looking out at his sorry comrades in arms who were fighting the good fight against domesticity and sobriety.

"Fuck you, Derlina," Merle said.

Daryl snickered. The typical drunk Merle response to any comment that he couldn't figure out how to respond to. He always seemed to think it won something in any battle of wits, but it really just served to show that you were right.

"Ya really willin', boy, ta just hand ya nuts over ta that woman? Just like that? Hell ya just found 'em an' ya didn't even use 'em when the hell ya found 'em! Ya just handed 'em right over ta this woman like she's gonna give a damn about'cha," Merle said, shaking his head.

Daryl fiddled with the shot glass. He could feel his shoulders aching and he knew it was because he was tense. This very same conversation, at least in one of its hundred varied forms, was a conversation that he'd had with Merle since he could remember being able to speak. He forgave Merle his sins because he was his fucking brother and because he knew that Merle had seen shit that even he hadn't seen. It didn't mean, though, that he thought Merle was always right, or that he ever thought Merle wasn't an asshole.

"I ain't handed her my damn nuts," Daryl growled. "And even if I fuckin' did, what the hell was I doin' with 'em? Ya said yaself I just found 'em…must mean they weren't doin' me no fuckin' good. How ya know, Merle? How ya know she don't give a damn?"

Merle eyed Daryl through heavy lidded eyes and sucked his teeth again, scratching at his neck.

"Ya ain't made a' the kinda shit she's lookin' for, boy. Ya ain't no prince charmin' an' ya ain't gonna find no fuckin' happily ever afters. That just ain't'cha lot in life. Ya can look at that woman an' tell she ain't gon' be happy with no Dixon. She'll try ta change ya, Daryl, try ta fit'cha in her lil' damn box, but she'll get sick a' ya an' then ya gon' come crawlin' ta me with ya tail tucked between ya legs an' wantin' me ta fix ya," Merle said.

Daryl chewed at his thumb nail. Maybe Merle was right, at least to some degree. He and Carol were from different worlds, that much was obvious. Carol's apartment was nice. It was clean and it smelled like flowers. They certainly had different views on the dog, but Hershel seemed to think that was just a fundamental difference between women and men, and so Daryl hadn't really tried to think about it any longer. Daryl didn't really know what Carol was looking for in life, not really at least, but he couldn't imagine that what she'd want would be too far from what he wanted. He didn't know if she knew Hershel and Miss Jo very well, but he thought she might not mind so much being like them.

Daryl didn't know if Carol gave a damn about him, as Merle would put it, but he felt like she did. He didn't know what to call it, and he didn't know what she would call it, but she looked at him like she cared. She mostly always seemed excited when she saw him, and she'd been very soft and liked to cuddle against him when they were together. He supposed that had to mean something. You wouldn't want to be all over someone that you didn't care about at all.

"Ya know what the hell I think?" Daryl said. "I think this ain't about me and Carol. I think this shit ya do is about you, Merle."

Merle smirked at him.

"Oh ya do, do ya? Ya gon' tell me ya all part a' her lil' world now?" Merle asked.

"No, Merle, I ain't sayin' that," Daryl said. "Fuck if I know what the hell we doin' together, but I got a pretty good mind that she don't neither. Ya know what, though, we doin' what the hell feels right ta us an' I reckon we'll work on the fuckin' details as we come to 'em."

"Well ain't that just pretty," Merle said. "And when she leaves ya ass for somethin' better? Who ya gonna work ya fuckin' details out with then? Ehh? That's right, ya ole brothah…'cause when she's gone an' ya realize I was right, ya gonna know I always was the only one that was there."

Daryl nodded a little.

"Merle…I know ya prob'ly always gonna be sore 'bout the shit our parents done. Maybe ain't neither one a' us gonna ever forgive 'em for everything, but don't'cha wanta try some time ta move the fuck on? What if ya bigger than our old man was? What if ya got more ta offer than he did? Just 'cause ya got his fuckin' name don't mean ya him," Daryl said. "Hell, try some fuckin' baby steps an' just admit that ya give a damn about Andrea."

Daryl looked at his brother. Merle was at the stage of drunkenness now where he looked sleepy, or bored, or both. Daryl didn't figure he was getting his brother home alone. He chuckled to himself when he thought that the only way that Merle was likely making it back was if they called the cops for assistance or if Daryl went and got Andrea, the very same person that Merle claimed to not give a damn about, and she helped him drag his worthless ass the two blocks back.

"I told ya," Merle said. "I ain't some kinda pansy ass dreamer like you, Daryl. I don't give a damn 'bout that woman. I could take her ass or leave her. If she don't never come back it ain't no damn skin off my teeth. Women are a dime a dozen, boy. Just remember there ain't no pussy that's made a' gold."

Daryl sighed. Merle was gone now…too far drunk to come back. He sat here, in a nasty booth at a trashy bar, just like he'd done in numerous other nameless bars, and tried to drown all the sorry of his life in a bottle of whiskey. Daryl knew his brother had seen the bottom of a lot of bottles, but so far not one of them had held a single answer.

The funny thing was, though, was that Merle was drinking to find the answers to questions that he didn't even know he had. He'd spent his whole life trying to shut himself down. Trying to prove to Daryl and the whole world that he was the one man alive that didn't have any feelings at all. None. Merle was a human stone wall, and he wanted Daryl to be the same.

And Daryl tried, with less enthusiasm than his brother, to be made of stone too, but Daryl knew he had feelings. It wasn't that he didn't have them, it was that he didn't like them. He wasn't always sure what to do with them and he wasn't always sure what they meant. They were there, though, and he'd tried a good bit to follow in his brother's footsteps and push them down, but it didn't work for him as well as it did for Merle. And when Merle was drunk like this, it was pretty obvious that it didn't work for Merle either.

Daryl stood up.

"You're so piss drunk ya ass couldn't make it out the damn door if the whole fuckin' place was burnin' down around ya," Daryl said. "I might be fuckin' up my life…ya might be right…an' I reckon I'm just gonna have ta fuckin' deal with it if I do…but'cha ain't doin' real good with ya own, Merle," Daryl said.

Merle mumbled something at him that he couldn't make out and reached for the whiskey bottle. Daryl snatched it off the table and held it in his hand for a minute. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to hit Merle with it right now.

"Stay ya sloppy ass here," Daryl said. "I'm goin' ta get some fuckin' help ta haul ya outta here." He finished, sighing.

Daryl circled around a moment, finding Loretta. He gave her the whiskey bottle and asked her to make sure that Merle didn't get anything else to drink and didn't wander off. He'd be back in just a bit to get to his worthless brother's carcass and drag it home, or at least to the back of the truck, since he was beginning to think he wouldn't even be able to halfway walk himself home.

Daryl left the bar, mulling over what Merle had said.

If he said he wasn't somewhat worried that things would go to hell with Carol, he'd be lying. They'd already fallen apart once, and he wasn't positive they wouldn't fall apart again. He was a Dixon, after all, and they did have a magical way of fucking things up.

Still, Andrea believed that he had the potential to be like Hershel and that somewhere he could figure out a way to get out of living the shit life that his family had passed down for generations. So the least he could do was hope she was right.

As for Merle…Daryl felt sorry for Merle. Even as he walked back toward the apartment, breathing in the air around him and thinking about the fact that he was going to have to figure out how to get Merle up the stairs so that he could pass out in the apartment, Daryl couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Merle thought he was a dreamer. He'd always teased him about his fairy tale dreams and shit. Merle was just as deep into it as he was though, except that in Merle's fairy tale he was more like some troll living under the bridge, and he'd found that existence to be a comfortable one.

Daryl wondered thought, though, that maybe if it was possible for him to get his dream of being like Hershel and Miss Jo, maybe it was possible to find something for Merle. Somehow, maybe, he could find him a dream…maybe not the same kind as Daryl's, but one at least where he didn't think he was happy being some wretched ass troll under a bridge. Maybe one that he could live with enough that he didn't feel the need to drink himself into oblivion on a regular basis.

Daryl didn't know if it was possible, though, to ever pull Merle out from under his bridge. He knew it wasn't possible tonight. Tonight the best he could do was go and coax Andrea to come and help him get Merle moved from the shitty bar to the shitty apartment. Merle's future might hold something grand in the long run, but for right now it only held the promise of a really epic hangover.


	43. Chapter 43

**AN: As always, I just wanted to remind you all that I'm thankful for your comments, reviews, PMs etc. They are really wonderful and cherish all of them. I have been trying to spend most of my free time updating for everyone so I haven't been able to respond to them individually, but I want you to know that they are greatly appreciated!**

**I hope you enjoy as we continue with our story!**

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When Daryl got back to the apartments, he found his empty. He crossed the hall and knocked at the door, Lincoln announcing his presence from within. Carol swung the door open a minute later, standing there in her pajamas with Lincoln in her arms.

Daryl stepped into the apartment. Andrea was on the couch with a blanket over her and a big bowl of popcorn resting on her knees. She looked over her shoulder at him when he came in.

"What are you doin'?" He asked.

Carol closed the door and put Lincoln back on the floor. He bounded around to the couch and sat looking up at Andrea who tossed a piece of popcorn at him.

"We're watching The Wizard of Oz," Carol said, "and eating popcorn. Your boy's night over already?"

Carol walked around and crawled on the couch, flipping the cover back over her and leaning back against Andrea's legs so she could see the television better.

"Merle's drunk down at the bar. I need help gettin' him home," Daryl said. Neither one of the women looked away from the television. Daryl sighed and leaned against the counter. "Come on," he said. I need some help."

"We're busy," Andrea said, packing her mouth with popcorn.

"Andrea, don't be a bitch about shit, Merle's damn near passed out," Daryl said.

"So he can stay that way," Andrea said. "I'm not being a bitch but nobody told him to go down to the bar and get sloppy drunk. I've been watching this whole movie just to see the horse of a different color and I'm not leaving this apartment until I do."

Daryl looked at the television. He thought he might have seen this movie back when he was a kid but he didn't remember much about it. Something about some magic land or something. Right now, though, he was concerned about Merle being left down there at the Water Ho, and he wanted to get his stupid, drunk ass back here so that he could maybe talk his way back onto the couch instead of having Andrea occupy what was supposed to be his spot while she ate what was most definitely his popcorn that he was supposed to be sharing with Carol.

"We can't just leave him down there, Andrea. Ya know how he gets an' he's gonna go wanderin' off if we don't go after him," Daryl said.

"Loretta won't let him wander off," Andrea said. "She'll call the cops first."

"Ya want Merle ta end up locked up?" Daryl asked.

Andrea put the bowl of popcorn over Carol's head and into her lap and she got up quickly enough that Carol spilled backward onto the couch, not anticipating the sudden removal of her backrest.

"You're right, Daryl," Andrea said. "Let me drop everything and go with you to get your stupid ass brother who could have just as easily gotten shit faced drunk across the damn hall with the liquor cabinet that's stocked up for him. Let me find my damn shoes and we'll go."

"Ya goin' in ya pajamas?" Daryl asked. He shot at look at Carol who was now getting up and either looking for Andrea's shoes or looking for something else on the floor.

"Yes, I am," Andrea said. "What's it going to do? Embarrass him that he had to have people come and carry his sorry ass out of a shithole bar and they came in their pajamas because they were at home relaxing instead of out in public making an ass out of themselves?"

Andrea slipped on her shoes and Carol put the popcorn on the counter. She had on shoes too and apparently was part of the pajama parade.

"Ya pissed?" Daryl asked. Andrea didn't answer. She just glared at him and he could tell that she was clearly pissed. He sighed and slipped out the door. The two women followed behind him, closing Lincoln inside and Carol locked the apartment.

Daryl slipped down the stairs with the two of them behind him and went to the truck.

"There ain't gonna be enough room for all a' us," he said, opening the driver's side door.

"Merle's going in the back," Andrea said. "I supposed there's plenty enough room back that and when he hurls all over the damn thing we can hose it out tomorrow."

Daryl cringed a little at the idea, but he knew right now he didn't feel like fighting with Andrea. She was obviously pissed and he wasn't sure if it was because Merle was drunk, because her movie had gotten interrupted, because they had to go and get him, or a combination of everything.

When everyone was piled into the truck, Daryl drove them down to the bar and parked in front. It wouldn't be too long before the place closed, but still it was pretty crowded with the dedicated souls who had a tendency to shut the place down.

They piled out of the truck and Daryl glanced one last time at his pajama clad comrades, still a little in disbelief that they were going into the bar dressed that way. Still, there wasn't much that he could say and they were here now.

Daryl pushed into the bar with Andrea and Carol behind him. He tried not to look around much, though the fact that a few of the drunks thought it OK to howl at what Andrea and Carol were wearing made him burn hot. They might not have been well suited to the bar, but that didn't give the men a right to make the fuss that they were over some cotton shorts and t shirts. For some reason, it bothered Daryl more knowing the men were ogling Carol dressed like that than it did to know they were ogling her in the scanty uniform that she usually wore to work there.

Merle was right where Daryl left him, slumped over now, on the table. Daryl tugged at Merle's arm and Merle stirred, sitting up and looking around. The good thing was that Merle was fairly capable of staying up on his feet once you got him going. On rare occasions he fell flat on his face, but for the most part he needed a good start and some support to keep him moving in a somewhat straight line, and he could keep the one foot in front of the other going.

Daryl wouldn't need Carol really, only Andrea, if he could get Merle going, though Carol might be useful when they returned to the apartment building and had to conquer the stairs. A little added assistance would be nice with that obstacle.

"Get'cha ass up," Daryl growled at Merle. "Ya goin' home. Me an' Carol an' Andrea, we gon' take ya home an' ya can sleep off all ya done drunk there."

Merle mumbled something but his speech had gone entirely intelligible. There wasn't really any way to distinguish that what he was saying was even composed of words, and Daryl knew from his condition before that even if the words could be understood there wouldn't be any meaning to his brother's mumblings.

"Yeah, yeah…what the fuck ever, Merle, come on," Daryl said. Finally Merle decided it was in his best interest to abandon the cracked and aged booth and slide out where Daryl could help heave him to his feet. As soon as Merle was up, Daryl looped one of his arms around his neck, not wanting to think for a moment how often he'd had to do this. Andrea came around without being asked and looped the other arm around her shoulder. Without saying anything to anyone, Daryl and Andrea both started walking Merle forward and he obeyed, shuffling forward a little at a time.

"Goodnight, Loretta," Daryl heared Carol call as he and Andrea maneuvered Merle through the heavy wooden door of the bar and out into the night.

Once they were on the sidewalk, the both stopped for a minute and Merle swayed back and forth between them, beginning to mumble again. Daryl, at this point, was praying that nothing he had to say came out clearly because it had a good chance of being some rant about Carol, some rant about Andrea, or some rant about some other woman that Merle would get a piece from given the chance. And Daryl wasn't sure that the women wanted to hear all about pussy from a drunken Merle that had drug them out in their pajamas.

"I'll open the tailgate," Carol offered, starting toward the truck while Andrea and Daryl took their breather.

"Ya know you was what set him off," Daryl said to Andrea.

"How the hell did I do this, Daryl?" Andrea asked. "I haven't even been home most of the fucking day. I got home and you two were down here already trying to drink Jack Daniels out of business."

"That's what the hell set him off," Daryl said, "but he ain't gon' never admit ta it. Ya weren't home an' he didn't know where the hell ya were. Reckon he mighta thought ya left."

Daryl was aware that Merle was semi-conscious and could probably hear everything that they were saying, but the thing was that he wasn't likely to be able to respond to it and he wouldn't remember it later. When Merle was in this condition it would have been safe to tell him government secrets and shit because he never would have been able to drag the information out again, even if his life depended on it.

"Am I supposed to tell Merle everything I do?" Andrea asked. "Because from what I get from Merle he doesn't care when I come and go…so that means it shouldn't fucking matter if I have something to do."

"Ya know Merle runs his damn mouth," Daryl said.

"Yeah, I know that, Daryl," Andrea said. "I also know he gets piss drunk to deal with shit."

"Come on, let's get him ta the truck," Daryl said. Carol was waiting behind the truck at the open tailgate. Daryl and Andrea walked Merle around and more or less pushed him at the back of the truck. Daryl wasn't positive how it was going to work in practice, but it worked out better than he initially thought. As soon as Merle felt the tailgate behind him, he helped them heave him up on it.

Merle's intent had been to ride sitting on the tailgate. Daryl's intent had been to move Merle back into the bed a little and have someone sit in the back with him. Andrea's intent was a little different. As soon as Merle slid back into the bed a little, Andrea slammed the tailgate shut, spilling Merle further back into the bed with a thud. She walked around, then, without saying anything to Daryl or Carol and got into the cab.

Daryl looked at Carol. Carol didn't respond in any way. Not a shrug, not a smile, nothing. She walked to the passenger side and crawled into the truck beside Andrea. Daryl shook his head and regarded his brother who appeared not to care about his current situation. He was beginning to curl himself around a spare tire that was back there and Daryl wondered if he would happily spend the entire night back there. Daryl sighed and got in the truck, driving back to the apartments and parking.

For a moment the three of them sat in the cab in the dark.

"Why ya so pissed?" Daryl asked. He figured it didn't hurt to ask it in front of Carol. She was going to find out about the conversation anyway from one of them.

"Because your brother is such a big stupid head, to put it in playground terms," Andrea said with a sigh. "I mean look at him, Daryl. He's so drunk that he doesn't care that he's passed out in the back of an old truck. He doesn't care about anything right now, and that's just the way that he wants it to be."

"I reckon that was the idea behind it," Daryl said. He had to admit that he thought his brother was a big stupid head as Andrea had put it, but this wasn't the first time he'd been like this and Daryl would have probably died laughing if someone had suggested it would be the last. "He's done this a million times before," Daryl said. "Why ya so damn pissed tonight?"

Andrea sighed.

"Because…I don't know. I just thought it was going to be a nice night. I got a new job today, that's where I was. I'll be working part time at the Korean restaurant that the Rhee's run. I'm going to be making some extra money. I'm looking into some things, Daryl…things to make life better. I just thought that I'd come home, cook some dinner, and we could just have a quiet fucking night. Just one nice night…and I come home to find out that he's already down at the Watering Hole drinking the fucking place dry with you," Andrea said.

Daryl felt a little sorry for her. It wasn't easy with Merle to have a nice night, and it especially wasn't easy when he decided to get like this. Daryl had been living with him long enough to know that most nights you weren't going to just have a quiet evening, you were going to spend at least part of it tending Merle's sorry ass.

"I'm sorry," Daryl offered.

Andrea chuckled a little.

"It's not your fault, Daryl," Andrea said. "And the sad thing is that it isn't Merle's fault either, not really."

"How ya figure that?" Daryl asked, looking over his shoulder and checking on his brother still sleeping in the back.

"Whatever happened, Daryl, in your life and in his life…that's where the fault lies. I watched my mama do this shit too, and it was no more her fault than this is Merle's," Andrea said. She sighed and shoved at Carol's shoulder. "Come on, let's get the asshole upstairs before he really passes out and then we can't move him."

Carol didn't say anything, she just opened the door and got out with Andrea spilling out after her. Daryl heaved his own door open and crawled out to wrestle Merle out of the back of the truck.

Getting Merle out of the back of the truck and back on his feet proved to be a three person job and really Daryl thought they could have maybe used a fourth or fifth. Once he was up, though, he took on all the qualities of Frankenstein's monster and began shuffling with them toward the stairway. Daryl let the women take the front then and he started pushing at Merle's back. At least if Merle toppled backwards and took anyone down the flight of stairs it would be Daryl and not Carol or Andrea whom he might have crushed.

When they got to the landing, finally, everyone was exhausted. Daryl opened the apartment door and waited for Andrea to come and retrieve Merle and take him in to do all the happy little night time routine stuff that she did with Merle when he was like this. She stood beside Carol, though, staring at him.

"Ain't'cha gon' take him in?" Daryl asked.

Andrea shook her head.

"Not tonight," Andrea said. "We were in the middle of our girl's night when your boy's night crashed our party. You and Merle went out, you and Merle got drunk, now you and Merle have a beautiful evening together."

Daryl couldn't believe this. Andrea had her arms crossed across her chest, and though she didn't look pissed anymore, she definitely looked serious. Beside her, Carol was trying not to laugh with her hand clasped over her mouth.

"Carol, is she serious?" Daryl asked. Merle groaned something and mumbled and Daryl moved him so that he was leaning against the wall.

Carol nodded.

"Yes, Daryl. You and Merle decided to go out tonight, which is fine, but that was your decision. Both of you made it. Andrea and I wanted to stay in and have a quiet night. We're all going to go now and finish the kind of night that we started. You're with Merle and we're having a slumber party," Carol said.

Daryl realized that the only thing harder to understand than a woman was two women, especially when they were banding against you. He growled a little under his breath and grabbed Merle by the neck, steering him off the wall and into the open door of the apartment.

"Goodnight, Daryl," Carol said.

"Goodnight," Andrea offered.

The women pushed into Carol's apartment and closed the door just as Merle went toddling through the kitchen and crashed into the card table, sliding it a few feet before dropping to his knees. Daryl went into the apartment and slammed the door, wrestling Merle back to his feet and shoving him toward his room.

By the time he finally got Merle into his bed, full clothed, Daryl was boiling mad about the entire situation. Merle was trying to sleep, mumbling a little.

"You're a giant fuck up!" Daryl yelled at his brother. "You're fuckin' content ta fuck ya whole damn life up! Why the hell ya gotta do this shit no way? Why couldn't ya just sit ya fuckin' ass home one night an' eat fuckin' supper like a normal human fuckin' being?"

Daryl yanked Merle's shoes off and threw them, deciding his brother could sleep as he was other than that. He hoped he was uncomfortable too.

"I wish ya weren't so fuckin' drunk so I could beat ya ass for bein' so fuckin' stupid!" Daryl yelled. It made him even angrier to think that Merle wasn't listening to him and wouldn't remember what he'd said in the morning.

Daryl left Merle and stomped back through the apartment. He opened up the cabinet where the half empty liquor bottles were stored and pulled the trash can out from under the sink. One by one he emptied the liquor bottles down the drain and threw them into the trash can, not caring about the loud clanking of the glass.

This shit…this same shit…it had turned his old man into the raving asshole that he was. It had turned his mother from the woman that he loved into the woman that would whip them both with a belt given any reason to do so or no reason at all. It had led to countless beatings for both of them. It had led to their old man finally killing their mother in one of his drunken rages and it had haunted them since then, following them all over the state, place after place, causing them to one lose shitty residence and piss poor job after another. These fucking bottles had all but destroyed who they were and every hope they'd ever have of being anything or of having anything better than a borrowed five gallon bucket to piss in.

And Daryl knew that it had done the same damn thing, in one form or another to Andrea. He didn't know the whole story there, but for some reason her father had left, her mother had drank herself to death, and her father hadn't bothered to give a shit about her. Daryl didn't need the details to figure out the rest of the story.

And Carol? Daryl knew that Ed drank. He didn't even pretend that he hadn't noticed the nauseating scent of Ed the night that they'd all been involved in his attack. Daryl was sure it wasn't the first time that Ed had been drunk and he was positive that alcohol had probably caused a good bit of the torture that Carol had to endure.

Merle might be content to piss his life away drinking gallon after gallon of the liquid poison that fucked up anyone and everyone it seemed to touch, but Daryl was done with this shit. He was done with the whole fucking idea of it. He was getting the shit out of the house. The apartment might be a dump and it might smell like fucking goat piss, but it wasn't going to smell like liquor, vomit, and goat piss. Not anymore.

When morning came, Daryl was going to have it out with Merle. One damn way or another he was letting his brother know that he was ridiculous. Merle called him a pussy for a lot of things, but hiding behind the contents of a bottle was what was making Merle the real pussy here. Daryl figured they'd probably fight when he confronted his brother about his shitty behavior, but at least if they were going to do it, they had the apartment to themselves.

Daryl felt a little calmer as she slammed the trash can full of clanking bottles back under the sink. He walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth, but realized he'd left his toothbrush at Carol's apartment. He did the best he could for the night with his finger and toothpaste and decided it would have to do until morning. He slipped into his room and cringed at the sight of his unwelcoming bed. At least if they were going to make some changes around here, and if he won the fight some changes were indeed going to be made, the first think he could do was get himself a new mattress for whatever nights he ended up stuck across the damn hall babysitting Merle instead of spending the night with Carol.

He sighed and switched off the light, knowing he'd be up well before Merle to prepare exactly what he intended to say when his brother got up to start nursing this hangover.


	44. Chapter 44

Daryl was feeling especially vindictive when he woke up. He was up early and hadn't slept worth a shit the entire night, so he thought that Merle should join him for breakfast. He really didn't want to cook, but he wanted to get the pans out and make lots of noise with them, so he decided he'd suffer through cooking just to make Merle suffer through the banging and clanging he was doing with a great deal of enthusiasm.

"Knock that fuckin' shit off, Andrea!" Merle growled from the bedroom.

"Nope, guess again," Daryl growled back at his brother. "Ya run Andrea off, her ass is 'cross the fuckin' hall where I oughta fuckin' be."

Daryl clanged two of the pans together then just for good measure and not because he needed them for anything. He felt like cooking breakfast with every single noisy thing they had in the kitchen.

Merle stumbled to the kitchen then, looking like he'd been in a fight already. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked terrible, frankly. Daryl stared at him, sure he was making a face.

"Fuck, Merle," Daryl said. "Ya look like hammered shit!"

"What tha fuck ya doin' makin' so much damn noise for?" Merle growled. "Fuck!"

He slumped down into one of the chairs at the card table that he'd relocated slightly across the kitchen floor the night before.

"I hope ya fuckin' feel twice as bad as ya fuckin' look," Daryl said.

"Ain't ya just a peach, ya fuckhead," Merle retorted.

"Ya done this fuckin' shit ta yaself, Merle," Daryl said, getting eggs out of the refrigerator and cracking them into a bowl to beat for a while as noisily as he possibly could. "Shit's 'bout ta fuckin' change 'round here, though, big brother. Got some fuckin' news for ya."

"What the fuck crawled in your panties this mornin', Derlina?" Merle asked. "Ya fuckin' on tha rag or some shit like that?"

"Go look at your ugly ass mug in the mirror if ya wanta know what's got me fired up this mornin'," Daryl responded. "I'm sick a' takin' care a' ya worthless ass. I coulda had a right damn good night last night but ya fucked that shit up just like ya been fuckin' up everythin' for as long as I can fuckin' remember. Is this what the fuck ya want'cha life ta be like? Damn it, Merle!"

Merle didn't respond for a moment and Daryl turned around. Merle was looking around the kitchen, half dazed from the confusion of his hangover and the unexpected attack. Daryl knew that this was how this was going to go down. Merle wouldn't be even half human until at least lunch time and that was assuming he ate two meals before then to soak up what was left of his rendezvous with oblivion from the night before.

"Ya drug my ass down ta that fuckin' shit hole ya so damn fond of," Daryl snarled, not ready to stop, whether or not Merle was in the right mind to fend off the attack. "Had ta get fuckin' Carol an' Andrea ta go down there an' drag ya sorry ass out. But'cha don't fuckin' 'member none a' that, do ya? Shoulda let'cha fuckin' sleep with the damn tire ya was so damn fond of."

"Fuckin' hell, Daryl!" Merle spat. "Can't'cha shut ya fuckin' mouth? Damn I don't wanta hear all this bitchin' this fuckin' early in tha mornin'!"

"Ya gon' hear it," Daryl said. "Ya gon' hear every damn word of it an' I hope it sounds like a fuckin' brass band is playin' in ya head right now."

Daryl scraped the eggs onto a place, dragging the spatula he had against the bottom of the pan as hard as he could.

"Yer a bigger fuckin' bitch than Andrea is, ya know that?" Merle said.

"Well, ya coulda had Andrea here," Daryl said. "She coulda fuckin' made ya breakfast an' maybe even done somethin' else for ya, but'cha fucked it up 'cause ya'd rather put'cha damn lips on a bottle than ya woman any fuckin' day. Ya know what, Merle? For all the shit ya say a Dixon does, I tell ya what the hell ya prove ta me a Dixon does…ya prove ta me a fuckin' Dixon gets shit faced an' acts like a jackass. Makes me fuckin' ashamed ta be one."

"I ain't listenin' ta this shit no more," Merle mumbled, pushing up from the table. Daryl threw the pan he had at the stove and turned around, meaning to shove Merle back into the chair, but in actuality he shoved him over the chair and Merle spilled onto the floor, slamming his head on the cabinets. "Fuckin' hell, Daryl!" He snarled, his hand going to the back of his head.

Daryl was sorry that he'd slammed Merle into the cabinets, but that was all he was sorry for and at this moment all that he was pissed off about far outweighed what he was sorry for. He stepped forward, now being in a position to tower over his brother.

He looked down at Merle, thinking that it was pathetic what his brother looked like right now. He looked like fucking road kill and still he didn't see a damn thing wrong with it. He couldn't remember the night before, and it was just one of a hundred other nights that had been erased from his memory. Voluntarily Merle deprived himself of a chunk of his existence.

Daryl softened his voice a little.

"Tell me somethin', Merle, real honest like right now…do ya fuckin' hate ta be alive? Do ya fuckin' hate livin' so damn bad that ya'd rather not be doin' it?" Daryl asked.

Merle looked up at him, blinking his blood shot eyes, confusion and suffering from the hangover and now the added headache spread over his face.

"Fuck ya, Derlina," Merle said, with less venom than before. "I don't know what the hell has crawled up ya ass, but I hope ta hell it burrows its fuckin' way back out soon."

Daryl stepped over his brother, pulling open the cabinet door and wrestling the trashcan full of glass bottles out from under the sink. He pulled one out and sat it on the floor next to Merle.

"This," Daryl said. "This is what the hell has crawled up my ass."

Merle picked up the bottle, looking confused. Daryl hated that look almost as much as he hate the alcohol. He picked up the trash can and dumped the bottles on top of Merle. They clanked and rolled across the floor as they slid off of him. He held his arms up, protecting his face and looking at Daryl like he honestly had no idea what to expect of him.

"Ya fuckin' happy now, Merle? Ya wanted ta be a damn Dixon, well ya got'cha fuckin' wish. Ya just like our fuckin' old man!" Daryl spat.

Merle started to wrestle himself up, then, almost falling over the bottles everywhere. When he finally made it to his feet he poked Daryl hard in the chest.

"Ya fuckin' take that back, Daryl," Merle snarled. Daryl squared himself off.

"Ain't gon' take it back 'cause it's fuckin' true," Daryl said. "Ya know what else? Ya treat Andrea 'bout tha fuck like he treated our mama. Ya ain't hit her yet, but it's sure as shit comin' ya keep lettin' yaself get fucked up like ya do 'bout every damn night. An' ya know what? Sorry damn thing is she'll fuckin' stay with ya ass 'cause it ain't the first fuckin' time she's seen this shit. Ya wouldn't know that, though, 'cause ya too fuckin' busy cryin' in ya fuckin' glass 'bout shit ya ain't got the balls ta admit."

Merle swung then, and Daryl saw it coming, dodging all but the last bit of it, which was barely even a clip.

"That's right," Daryl snarled. "Hit me over ya fuckin' precious drink, just like our old man. Only damn thing that man ever cared about an' ya right fuckin' there with him. Hit me again, Merle. Protect ya damn Dixon honor an' ya fuckin' liquid pride."

Merle didn't swing that time. He narrowed his eyes at Daryl and sucked his teeth. Daryl thought, for at least a split second that he saw some kind of recognition behind his brother's eyes. Maybe something that he said struck home and maybe Merle could see that what he was doing was only hurting himself, and hurting everyone around him. He'd been looking for answers in the bottom of bottles for years…most of his life really, and he hadn't found it yet. Maybe that wasn't the place to go looking for it.

Merle shoved Daryl, and Daryl caught himself with the hand he had resting on the counter. Daryl waited to see what Merle would do and whether or not he was going to lash out. Merle surprised him, though, by turning around and stumbling around the glass bottles on the floor, heading back to the bedroom.

"Ain't gonna be no damn more liquor in this house," Daryl called. "Not a damn drop more. An' if ya take ya fuckin' ass down there an' ya get plowed again, ain't nobody comin' for ya. Not me an' not Andrea. Ya gonna fuckin' stay there or go ta jail. I'm done fuckin' helpin' ya if ya can't fuckin' help yaself!"

"Fuck you!" Merle responded. He slammed the door. Daryl shook his head and crossed the kitchen, switching off the eye of the stove. He started picking up the bottles and shoving them back into the trash can.

He might get through to Merle, and he might not. Daryl knew that Merle knew, deep down, that he was right. He had to know that he was doing the same damn thing their old man had done. He had to know that he was on the fast track to fucking up his life permanently. The problem was that, like their old man, Merle was about as hard headed as a brick wall. Daryl could only hope, though, that he was right and Merle's well buried fear of being alone was stronger than his desire to be a hard headed son of a bitch and do everything except what anyone wanted him to do.

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"I'm really going to do it," Andrea said. "You should do it too, Carol. We could do it together. It would be easier on both of us if we did it together."

"I don't know," Carol said, scraping her own serving of scrambled eggs into her plate and moving to the table where Andrea was already eating. "I've never done that kind of thing."

"That's the point," Andrea said. "If you'd done it then it wouldn't make much sense to be doing it again. Think about it, Carol. We'd both get our cosmetology licenses. Even part time we'd be done in less than two years. We could work up there at Yvonne's hair place until we made some money and buy our own salon! Hell, if your little dollhouse has as garage we could turn that into a salon! You'd work practically from home, Carol."

Carol considered what Andrea was saying. She'd love to have a degree and do some job that was better than being a waitress. Working for real money instead of small pay and sorry tips could be nice.

"Where are we going to get clients from?" Carol asked.

"We work our way up," Andrea said. "Yvonne's about three hundred years old. She'll croak soon enough anyway and the old ladies of Sweet Junction can't stand to go too long without getting their hair done. They drive to other places too, if they don't like Yvonne. We could get good at this Carol, snag those old bitches up and make a decent life out of it."

Carol wasn't sure about the whole plan, but it did sound somewhat inviting. Andrea had been looking into it apparently and already found a place to take the classes. She'd gone and talked to the guy the day before after she found her new job. She was serious about this, and Carol was considering getting on board with her.

"Less than two years, Carol, quicker if we do this extra credit shit that he was talking about," Andrea said. "Think about it. No more Watering Hole. No more ass grabbing drunks. We work as little or as much as we want to and we get paid decent money for every hour we put in. No more vomit and no more stopping assholes from pissing in corners and in potted plants. Our own business."

If the money ever came through from Ed, investing in a salon could be a good idea. If they really did this, and they got their licenses, then having their own place could pay off. It could be a job that was respectable and fun instead of the shit they just had to grin and bear.

"You really think that we'd make enough to get by?" Carol asked.

"Get by? Carol we could do better than get by," Andrea said. "If we put in the time there that we put in for the shit pay that we get now, we'd be doing a hell of a lot better than we are now. What's it going to hurt to try? If I can afford the classes on what I get paid picking up this second job then you can afford it with both of yours. We try it out at Yvonne's for a while if you want. Worst case scenario we end up finding out we just can't live without the shitty ass Watering Hole and we go back there. We won't really lose a damn thing."

"What's Merle had to say about it?" Carol asked.

Andrea stabbed the egg on her plate and then ate it thoughtfully.

"He doesn't know that I'm going to do it," Andrea said. "I was going to tell him last night, but you saw how that ended up."

"Do you think he's going to think it's a good idea?" Carol asked.

"I don't really care," Andrea said. "I was kind of worried at first, you know? The whole idea of me going to school for something? Might hurt his ego or something. You know how sensitive men can be. Then I thought about it, and I don't really care. I mean I deserve some kind of decent ass job. I don't want to end up like Loretta and be close to sixty years old pushing alcohol on drunks. And I want a decent job…maybe a half ass reputation…you know, not to be like it is now and not be able to hold my head up when I go to the A and P because every snotty bitch who drives a minivan thinks she's better than me and thinks I'm fucking her husband when she's not looking."

Carol shook her head.

"It's not that bad, Andrea," she said.

"Carol, I know how people talk. I have ears and they're not exactly quiet around here," Andrea said.

Carol nodded a little.

"OK then, so you're going to do this," Carol said. "I think it's great. If you want to do this then I'm behind you. Go and get your license."

"Are you gonna do it with me?" Andrea asked.

Carol hesitated. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating, it just seemed like a pretty big leap. So much was changing in her life. Granted it was changing for the better, but that much change just seemed like a lot to digest, whether it was good or bad.

"Come on, Carol. Stop being afraid. You got out from under Ed, didn't you?" Andrea said.

Carol nodded.

"And you're here, doing what the hell you want to do, aren't you?" Andrea said.

Carol nodded.

"You're paying your bills, living your life, right?" Andrea said. She was grinning now and Carol couldn't help but smile at her.

"Yes, Andrea, I'm living my own life," Carol said.

"Then do this with me. Let's do this together. Hell we won't be big shot lawyers like Michonne, but we'll have respectable jobs, Carol, and we'll be making more money than we are now. There's no reason whatsoever for you not to do this unless you're just being a pussy, and you don't want Lincoln thinking his mom's a pussy and didn't have the guts to make a decent life for the two of you, now do you?" Andrea asked.

"Did you just call me a pussy?" Carol responded, stifling a laugh. "In front of Lincoln?"

Andrea nodded.

"I'll take it back if you'll sign up for the classes with me," Andrea said. "We'll give it a try. If we hate it, we don't do it."

Carol smiled and nodded finally.

"Deal," she said. "We'll give it a try. It can't hurt to try, right?"

Andrea squealed.

"Yes! It can't hurt to try!" Andrea said. "Before you know it, we're going to be running our own place."

"Don't start picking out names just yet," Carol said.

Andrea snickered.

"Oh come on, something catchy," Andrea said. "We've got start thinking about it now. It's probably going to take us a couple of years to think of it."

"Fine," Carol said. "You think about the name then. I'll focus on getting the license."

"Spoil sport," Andrea said.

Carol did think it might be a good idea, though, and she could kind of see herself working as a hairdresser. She liked people and she thought that if she was going to be trapped in a room working with someone all day long, she could probably work well with Andrea.

"You know," Andrea said, flicking a piece of sausage over the side of the table, "if we run our own place, you could bring Lincoln to work with you. He could be like our mascot."

Carol looked over the table at the puppy who was happily eating the bite of sausage that Andrea had given him.

"Our mascot, huh?" Carol said. She smiled at the thought. "Let's just see about these classes first. We're going to have plenty of time for the details." Carol was quiet for a minute, focusing on her breakfast and really considering the idea of this possible new career. "I wonder what Daryl is going to say about it," she said.

"He'll get used to the idea," Andrea said. "He'd probably like the idea of you not working at the Watering Hole anymore."

Carol blushed a little.

"I don't think he cares," Carol said.

Andrea huffed.

"Think again. I've seen the way he watches you there. He tolerates it, but he'd rather you didn't have all those men looking at you," Andrea said.

Carol rolled her eyes.

"What do you think of him, anyway? I mean now that we're on the subject," Andrea said.

Carol smiled. She thought Daryl was about the sweetest man alive. The sweetest man imaginable perhaps. He was fumbling at times, and he could pout over things, but she thought everything that he did was adorable. When she was around him it was sometimes all she could do not to reach over and kiss him for everything that he said or did. She wouldn't let herself do it half the time for fear that she'd run him off. She didn't want to seem too enthusiastic or too over the top. She was afraid that if she told him how much she liked him, how much she wanted to be around him all the time, that he might turn around and run from being overwhelmed by it.

"I like him," Carol said.

"You like him?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah," Carol said, "I like him."

"Carol," Andrea said, "do you mean you like him in grown up terms as in he's nice and I wouldn't stomp on his toe for no reason or do you mean you like him in junior high terms as in you'd hang a poster of him on your wall and imagine marrying him when your mommy and daddy tell you that you're old enough to kiss boys?"

Andrea was making a face at Carol now and Carol couldn't help but laugh.

"I mean that I like being with him," Carol said. "I don't know what to say. I like Daryl. I don't think I know anything about him that I _don't _like. He's easy to be around."

Andrea made another face. Then she smiled.

"So you like him junior high style," Andrea said. She smirked.

It was Carol's turn to roll her eyes, but she felt herself blush. She didn't even want to admit to Andrea how she felt about Daryl. She felt like if she admitted it to anyone it would get back to him and he'd run. She didn't want him to run. She liked him enough that she'd rather stay right where she was, wondering where they were going or maybe not going anywhere at all, than know she ran him off. She still had her dream, but right now she wasn't sure that Daryl would ever want to be part of something like that, and she was beginning to wonder if she might be willing to tweak the dream, just a little, to find something that might suit him. It might not be everything she ever wanted, but it might be good.

"Sure, Andrea," Carol said. "I guess I like him junior high style."

Andrea leaned on the table, pulling her legs up under her in her chair.

"So is he good in bed?" She asked, smirking.

"Andrea!" Carol spat.

Andrea laughed.

"What? Come on," Andrea said. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"I'm not talking about that with you," Carol said.

"Ah you stick in the mud," Andrea said. "You're no fun."

Carol got up and took her plate to the sink.

"I'm plenty of fun, for your information," Carol said. "I'm just not spilling my fun to you."

"That's alright then," Andrea said with a sigh. "I guess I'll just have to wait and hear about it in study hall."

Carol snickered.

"You want to talk about it so bad," Carol said, "then call Michonne. I'm sure she'll be happy to sit and compare notes with you about her bug man."

"I know all about the bug man," Andrea said. "I had lunch with Michonne yesterday, between my two appointments. I'm not spilling the beans on Mr. Bugs, though, unless you're willing to dish right along with us. You don't get everybody else's bedroom stories if you're not woman enough to share your own."

"I'll just get Michonne to tell me then," Carol said.

"Oh no you don't," Andrea said. "She's not spilling either. We both agreed, it's an eye for an eye here…quid pro quo. You gotta give to get."

Carol turned and looked over at shoulder at Andrea.

"Fine," she said. "I don't need to know that badly. I'm obviously not as starved as you two are. I'm too busy doing it to worry so much about talking about it."

Andrea whistled at her. Carol laughed. She'd never had a relationship that she could joke about before or sex that was worth talking about. It had never been that way with Ed. She'd never had girlfriends, either, that she could do that with. Ed had always kept her isolated. He viewed contacts with other people as bad things, and she knew it was because he didn't want people talking about her, and talking about what he did to her.

Now, though, it felt exciting to have something to talk about, and someone to talk about it with. She was sure she'd eventually be moved to spill a little, just to hear what they had to say, but for now the teasing was even more exciting.

Carol was really beginning to think that her new life was shaping up. It might not be what she'd dreamed it would be once upon a time, but it was a lot better than the nightmare she'd called home before.


	45. Chapter 45

**AN: So, a couple of things. One, do you like my new cover? LOL I made that last night when I couldn't sleep. It's not great, but it's pretty decent for someone like me who has no skills.**

**On another note, this is a Merlandrea? Andrerle? (I don't know that this ship even exists…frankly I wouldn't sail it anywhere else, and I really didn't **_**mean **_**to sail it in Sweet Junction, but things happen…) chapter. I just thought I'd give you a heads up. More of our favorite couple in the next chapter, though, don't worry. From time to time, though, we will be getting glimpses into the lives of others who live in our fair town. **

**I hope you enjoy. Don't be too harsh. This is my first time writing Merle (and I know that my Merle is different than many of the other Merles that I've read elsewhere) so I'm working on getting a feel for him. **

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Merle got up after lying there for a while with the pillow over his head. His little brother had finally shut the fuck up and disappeared and Merle didn't really care where the hell he'd gone. He hoped he stayed wherever the hell it was instead of bringing his bitching back to the apartment.

He got out of bed and shucked his clothes, tossing them into the pile in the corner of the room where all the dirty clothes were piled and waiting for Andrea to load them up and take them to the laundry mat. He made his way into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower.

The stupid ass shower here took a day and a half to get warm enough that it didn't make your dick hide for a week, so he went about his other business while it was warming up. Merle washed his face with cold water in the sink. His head felt like shit and his brother's temper tantrum from the morning didn't exactly help matters. He looked into the mirror and groaned at his bloodshot eyes.

He knew he drank too much, and last night he'd surely outdone himself, but he didn't need Daryl riding his ass about shit. He'd taken care of the little shit when he didn't have anyone else to take care of him and Daryl should be damn thankful for that. Merle couldn't find his toothbrush. He knew it should be there, but it wasn't. He couldn't find Andrea's either. He didn't know what the hell the bitch had done with the toothbrushes, and his mouth tasted like a cow had dropped by and taken a shit in it while he was sleeping.

Without his toothbrush, he left to simply swish some of the mouthwash around his mouth to help with the sour taste. Then he finally crawled into the shower and let the piss warm water run over him.

Daryl had no damn right saying he was like his old man. Merle Dixon was a lot of damn things, but he weren't nothing like his old man had been. Hell, Daryl acted like he was fucking authority on the asshole and he'd barely known him. He sure as shit hadn't seen some of the man's shining moments.

No, by the time Daryl's shiny white ass came bouncing into the world, their old man had mellowed the hell out to some degree. He'd also started to disappear regularly and for long periods of time, which was far better than having him around. Their mama was a hell of a peach too when it came to Daryl. He'd never even seen hide nor hair of the woman that raised Merle. Woman could damn near be a she devil on a good day.

Daryl didn't know shit about what life had really been like. He was the precious baby boy in the household. Their mama had seen him as some kind of late in life miracle child or some shit like that. Little Daryl the delicate one. That was probably why Daryl had the tendency to be the damn pansy ass that he was.

Merle shampood his hair with whatever fruity shit that Andrea had put in the shower for them all to use. She wanted the whole damn household smelling like a bunch of freshly douched pussies, that's at the hell that he could figure. Still, her fruity ass shampoo was what the hell was there, so Merle used it, taking his time and halfway washing himself with the suds leftover while he rinsed his hair.

He didn't deny that Daryl had seen one or two displays of their old man's charm and had gotten caught in the middle of shit a time or two to get his ass whooped, but there was always someone there to step in the middle and get the old bastard's attention away from the boy. Merle had popped his old man a few good rounds to get him off of Daryl and his mama had more than once stepped in to take the licks the old man originally meant for his brother. Daryl didn't remember that shit though, or didn't remember it clearly. He remembered the licks the old man got in, but he never seemed to know about the ones he handed out to them instead.

Merle fumbled around in the shower looking for the rag. There wasn't one and he debated if he was going to get out and find one or not. There was the stupid puffy thing that Andrea kept trying to get him to use. He held the bar of soap in his hand for a minute and decided that he wasn't putting his fucking manhood on the line even long enough to get through the one shower. He lathered up the bar of soap in his hands and set about washing himself that way. No one would know but him, but Merle Dixon was not using the damn purple puffy thing.

Merle doubted that Daryl even really fucking remembered when their old man had killed their mama. Merle didn't remember how old he'd been, so he sure as fuck didn't remember how old Daryl had been, but he'd been young enough he surely didn't have hair on his balls. Old man had come home stark raving mad about some shit or another and drunk as fuck.

Merle knew Daryl didn't know too many of the damn details because he'd been the one to get the little fuck out of the house before the old man killed him too. He'd taken Daryl out the house…couldn't really remember the details well. Promised him a fucking cheeseburger or some shit like that. Drove the little fucker around nearly all night and crashed at a cousin's house. The police had found them there…called every damn Dixon in the area and there were a lot of Dixon's. They might not marry their women, but if they knocked them up they at least gave their names to the little assholes they spawned.

And when the police had finally found them, Merle had taken Daryl up to the hospital. And that's how they found out the fucker had really done it that time. He'd beat their mama plenty of times before and the woman was tough as nails because she'd always come through it. She'd usually just pass the beating down to Merle if it was bad enough, taking out her aggression at the old man on her oldest son. But that time she didn't pull through it. And Merle had ended up with his little brother.

Technically they were supposed to be under the custody of some jackass cousin they'd had at the time. Merle had damn near been taking care of himself his whole fucking life though so he weren't about to ball up and take no orders from some worthless cuss just because the police thought it was a good damn idea. And that was when they first hit the road, putting as many miles between them and their old, fucked up life as possible.

Merle turned off the water and stood there a minute drip drying. Half the damn time when he got out the shower there were no fucking towels. He was already preparing himself for the annoying race to the closet to get one, after which someone would bitch about the floor being wet, when he stuck his arm out the shower curtain and there was a dry towel hanging on the rod there. He smiled to himself. Might not be such a bad fucking day after all.

He buried his face in the towel first. It was clean and smelled good. It was about the only damn thing that smelled good around here. Then he unfolded the towel and went to work drying off.

Yeah, Daryl could bitch at him at all he wanted, but he knew who had fucking made sure the kid didn't die, and it had been him. He might not have been no damn blue ribbon parent or nothing, but he didn't ask to have to help raise his fucking brother. That shit had gotten thrown in his lap and he did it because he wasn't going to be just another fucker that walked out on life.

No one had given a shit about either of them when they'd up and disappeared. Not even the damn police seemed to notice they were living just under the radar. There wasn't a high school diploma between them, though later in life they'd both gotten their fucking G. and been done with that shit. Employers liked that and when Merle found out you could take a test for that shit he couldn't figure out why a single person still went to school. Just give him the stupid ass test anyway. He and Daryl both had always been a lot better at taking tests like that than they'd been at sitting in cramped up classrooms full of jackasses and trying to learn some useless shit.

Yep…no one had given a shit about them, but they'd done alright. They were alive and they ate most fucking days.

Though Merle had to admit that he was starving. His stupid ass little brother's pretty princess bitch fest this morning had kept him from eating any damn breakfast and right now he'd eat a fucking dog if he could get his hands on one. He could still smell that shit too, whatever the hell his selfish prick of a brother had made to eat, hanging in the air.

Merle hated to cook. It had been of the first things that he'd taught Daryl to do…or rather that he'd urged Daryl to learn to do. He'd put the kid up next to the stove in their first place, given him a pan and some eggs, and let him play with the shit until he figured out how the hell to cook an egg just about any way you damn well wanted to eat one. From there the boy had slowly branched out. Daryl weren't no four star cook, but he could make shit if he wanted to.

Merle stepped out of the bathroom with the towel around him and his stomach growled. He padded into the kitchen to see if Daryl had left anything behind. Andrea was standing in the kitchen, at the stove, cooking. The smell wasn't coming from whatever Daryl had cooked after all.

"Go get dressed," she said, without looking up from what she was doing. "Breakfast will be ready by the time you get your ass covered."

"The hell ya cookin'?" Merle asked.

"Pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs," Andrea said. "That alright with you or did you have something else in mind?"

Merle noted the sarcasm in her voice. Beggars can't be choosers and he was fine with that for breakfast, though he wasn't sure he'd expected to see her standing there.

"Where tha fuck ya been?" He asked.

"Go put your fucking clothes on Merle and finish drying off. Your dripping all over the damn floor," Andrea said.

Merle rolled his eyes and went to the bedroom to get dressed. Every single damn person around him must be riding the crimson wave right now because every damn where he turned all he got was attitude and lip from people that didn't have no damn reason to be dishing it out to him. So he got fucking plowed the night before…so what? He hadn't landed in jail which means he hadn't hurt a single damn person besides himself.

"Fuck's got ya so damn sunny today?" Merle growled at Andrea as he came back into the kitchen and sat down at the card table. Andrea put a plate down in front of him and crossed the kitchen in silence, fishing a glass out of one of the cabinets and peeking into the other.

"Tell me you did not drink all that fucking alcohol last night, Merle," Andrea said, slamming the cabinet and turning around. She went to the refrigerator and poured a glass of orange juice, sitting the glass and the carton on the table in front of Merle before she pulled out a chair and took her own place at the table.

"Daryl poured all the shit out. He's been a holy fucking nightmare today," Merle said, starting to eat the food.

"Good," Andrea said, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table, watching Merle eat. "We don't need that shit in the house no way. He and I can both go dry and you sure as shit need to."

"What the fuck has gotten into ya two?" Merle asked. "Ya got some fuckin' problem ya need ta squawk about too?"

Andrea sighed.

"Would it make any damn difference, Merle? You need to stop fucking drinking. That's the only damn problem I've got," Andrea said. "I'm sick of dragging your ass home from the Watering Hole and taking care of you when you're half passed out and puking your guts out. It's a hell of a lifestyle and it's one that I'm gettin' pretty damn tired of."

"Fuck you then," Merle said. "Ain't nobody asked ya ta stay ya pampered ass here nor ta take care a' me. I do fuckin' fine on my own."

Andrea chuckled.

"Yes you do, Merle. You do just great, all on your own. Why last night, you made it home like a champ…except…wait…you weren't doing shit on your own! Four nights ago, I think it was, well you were almost fucking amazing on your own. If I hadn't spent half the fucking night on the bathtub rolling you over every time you decided to roll back on your back, I can tell you what the hell you'd have done on your own…you'd have drowned in your own fucking vomit…all by yourself…Yep, you've got this shit figured out," Andrea said.

Merle continued to eat his breakfast in silence now, eyeing Andrea as he ate. He couldn't believe she had the gall to sit here and run her fucking mouth at him like that. He had to tolerate that shit from Daryl because Daryl was his little brother, but he wasn't letting some bitch run her mouth at him. He'd put up with his mother because he had to, but she was dead and in the ground now and he didn't owe it to another damn woman to listen to her bitching.

"Ya so damn unhappy, get'cha fuckin' ass out," Merle said. "I don't fuckin' need ya 'round here barkin' at me an' I ain't 'bout ta put up with ya fuckin' bitchin'."

Andrea nodded a little, not even moving so much as to take her face away from her hand. She sighed.

"Is it that important to you, Merle? The drinking? Does it mean so much to you that you just can't live without it? Or maybe, you could try something a little different…maybe you could try and figure out why it is that you're drinking. What is it that makes you want to pick up that bottle and get so damn drunk that you don't even know who the hell you are or what the fuck you're doing? Maybe instead of drinking you could work on taking those problems out of your life. You know, instead of just trying to drown them. Eventually, Merle, there's not going to be someone there to save your ass. Not me, not Daryl, no one," Andrea said.

"Fuck you," Merle spat. He thought about leaving the table, but he wasn't done eating and he wanted the rest of the fucking food even if it came with her little side show of so called inspirational speaking.

"I'd love for you to," she said, smiling a little. "Except that you have a tendency not to be able to when you've spent too much time drinking. That's what Dixons do, right? They boast about their sexual abilities and then drink them away?"

"Damn it! Can't you shut your fuckin' face?" Merle said.

"You wouldn't get so angry about it if part of you didn't know I was telling the truth," Andrea said. She stood up. "I've got to go out, Merle. I've got some errands to run and I've got to go and pick up my uniforms for the new job I've got…the one you don't even know about because you were too drunk for me to tell you about it…and I've got to let them do a tour and show me what I'll be doing there. I'm going to pick up something for dinner on the way home, so you don't need to worry about that."

Merle watched her as she walked over to the place behind the door where she typically kicked off her shoes. She wrestled her feet into the well-worn and dirty sneakers that were over there. He knew what she was doing too, waving her ass all up in the air and making sure he saw it. She was being a bitch and trying to get him to ignore it by wiggling her ass at him.

"Daryl's with Carol doing whatever it is the two of them do," Andrea said. "Said something about going to buy a mattress. There's no telling when they'll be back. While we're out, might do you some good to do some thinking…you know, about what I said."

Andrea opened the door.

"Andrea," Merle called at her. She stopped, her hand on her keys she was about to pluck from the cup hook.

"What, Merle?" She asked, already rolling her eyes.

"I meant what I said," Merle said, "I don't give a damn if ya stay or ya go, so ya so damn miserable don't let tha fuckin' door hit'cha in the ass, princess."

Merle knew as soon as he heard the words leave his own mouth that he didn't mean it. He really didn't want her to leave, but what was driving him crazy worse than anything else was that he didn't know why he gave a damn if she left or not. She weren't the first fucking blue eyed, bottle blonde whore to track across his path before, not by a long shot.

Andrea smiled a little and finished removing her keys from the cup hook. She looked at them in her hand for a minute before looking back at him.

"I heard you, Merle," Andrea said. "Just be careful what you wish for. One of these days you're going to say that for the last time."

She stepped out the door and pulled it shut behind her. Merle stayed where he was a minute and then drained the last of the orange juice out of his glass. He got up and put the juice back in the refrigerator and put his plate on the counter for her to wash when she got back from whatever new job it was that she'd picked up somewhere, probably waiting tables or serving shots somewhere.

Merle had the day off work and not a damn thing to do. He fumbled around in the cookie jar on the counter and found a pack of cigarettes his brother stashed there. He took one out and lit it, using his empty juice glass as an ashtray. There wasn't a damn thing to do in this town and Merle knew it. Yet somehow his brother and Andrea both had found the drive to wake up this morning, bitch him out, and go out and find something to fucking do in Sweet Junction.

Merle considered, for a moment, going down to the Watering Hole and really giving them something to bitch about, but he honestly felt like shit still and he didn't feel like drinking. It was starting to wear on his nerves that both of them had crawled his ass for the night before, and he wished to fuck he could figure out what the hell to do to make the shit stop bothering him.

He could drink it away, that was a temporary fix, but he felt like they'd be right back at him like some damn yapping dogs when he sobered up again. Their fucking mouths had ruined his entire fucking day off. Now he didn't know what the hell to do with himself.

Merle decided, after a little while, that he wasn't staying inside any longer though. He might not go down to the Watering Hole, but he was at least going to walk around or something. He was getting the hell out of the little piece of shit apartment that they fucking called home one way or the other. He supposed that once he was out there walking around something would come to him. He'd think about what they said, that much was fine, but he wasn't going to admit to a single fucking one of them that he'd done that shit. He wasn't about this self-contemplation shit and he didn't have any fucking problems other than their bullshit attitudes.

He pulled his shoes on, somewhat satisfied with himself, grabbed the remainder of the pack of cigarettes that his brother had squirreled away, and stepped out of the apartment, going exploring to see what the grand town of Sweet Junction had to offer.


	46. Chapter 46

Carol opened the passenger side of the truck and slipped out, her feet hitting the dewy ground. Andrea was babysitting Lincoln while they were gone. They'd spent the day mattress shopping for a new mattress for Daryl's room in his apartment. Carol thought it was funny when he explained that he needed it for the nights that she and Andrea were being hard to understand and kicked him out of her apartment. She decided not to point out to Daryl that he was beginning to think it was only natural that he stay at her apartment every night, and he only went "home" when things weren't as they should be. She thought that, maybe, it would be too much for him to handle if she drew attention to the fact that he was more or less proposing that they live together.

Now they were out at the lake and it was late. They were the only ones out there and it was pretty bright owing to the full moon. The trip had been Daryl's idea, and Carol had thought it sounded nice. Now, however, with Andrea's bikini on under her clothes and the knowledge that Daryl intended for them to go swimming, she wasn't so sure. Andrea had assured her it was the most covering bathing suit she had, but Carol felt almost naked in it. Even though they were alone, she still wasn't sure she could work up the courage to bare that much skin in public.

Daryl wasn't paying her any attention at the moment. They'd brought a blanket to lie on for a while and couple of towels for drying off, and he was busy getting that out of the truck. He slammed the truck door and went to work lying out the blanket, the towels tucked tight up under his arm.

"Do you need help?" Carol asked.

Daryl barely looked up from what he was doing.

"Nah," he said. "Ain't like it's a real big challenge nor nothing. I'm just puttin' down a blanket."

Carol walked over to the edge of the blanket. Daryl stood up once it was spread out and toed off his shoes. He quickly shucked his shirt and stood there in the shorts he was intending to wear as swim trunks since h didn't own a bathing suit either.

"Come on," he said, "let's go swimmin'."

Carol looked around, checking for the tenth time since they'd been there that there was absolutely no one in sight anywhere. She hesitated a little.

"What's goin' on?" Daryl asked, backing toward the water.

"The bathing suit Andrea gave me," Carol said. "It's not exactly my style…it's a little too revealing."

"What the hell ya mean?" Daryl asked.

"I mean it shows a lot more skin that I'm comfortable with," Carol said. Daryl was backing away from her quickly and she could see his form as he moved toward the water, but she couldn't see his expression.

Daryl chuckled.

"Hell, I reckon I done seen ya naked a few times, how much more skin could it show?" Daryl asked.

Carol blushed, but she knew that the darkness would conceal it.

"But this is out in public, Daryl," she protested.

"What public?" Daryl asked. "Take ya damn clothes off an' let's go swimmin'. Ain't nobody 'round no way!"

Carol finally sighed and stripped out of her clothes, readjusting the bathing suit. It was a simple navy blue bikini, but she hadn't ever been out in anything like it. Her parents wouldn't have allowed something like that when she was young and Ed certainly wouldn't have allowed her to go out into public in something so revealing. She started toward the water and heard the splash as Daryl jumped off the small dock.

Carol walked out across the wooden boards and watched Daryl splashing around not far from the dock.

"Is it cold?" She called.

"Nah, feels good," Daryl said, slinging his head a little, presumably because he had water in his ears. "I like ya bathin' suit, don't know what ya was whinin' 'bout."

Carol smiled.

"You would like it," she said.

"Come on an' get in the water," Daryl called. "Ya so worried 'bout people seein' ya, but'cha standin' up there on display for everybody."

Carol looked around.

"There's nobody out here," she said.

Daryl laughed and splashed water at her.

"I know that! That's what the hell I been sayin', but ya was the one doin' all that bitchin' 'bout the people seein' ya so get'cha ass in here!" Daryl called at her.

Carol finally jumped into the water and when she came up Daryl was all but on top of her, paddling to keep his head above water. He reached one arm out, the other still paddling, and tugged her close to him. The water wasn't cold, but his body flush against hers felt warm in comparison and Carol could feel, as soon as he pulled her against him, that despite any chill the water might have to it, he was obviously very fond of the bathing suit she was wearing.

Carol blushed a little and cleared her throat, feeling him paddling them closer to the dock.

"I thought we were swimming," she said.

When they got close enough to the dock, Daryl reached his hand up and caught hold of one of the rungs on the old board ladder that was built there, holding them in place.

"We are swimmin'," he said. He kissed her neck, licking the water off of it.

Carol was surprised that her body responded to such a small act. She was glad that she didn't have the same obvious reaction to being turned on that he did, at least she could hide hers. She was embarrassed that something as simple as one kiss could make her want so much more from him.

Daryl slid the hand that he had wrapped around her back farther down and pulled her waist closer to him, his erection digging pressing against her again.

"It feels to me like you've got more on your mind than swimming," Carol said.

Daryl kissed her jaw, licking his tongue across her jaw bone and up to her ear. She shivered a little, fighting the urge to moan. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but left her legs floating, even though she'd considered, for a moment, wrapping them around him as well.

He brought his mouth to hers and she parted her lips, letting his tongue dive into her mouth. She teased him back, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck. He pulled her against him again, this time bucking his hips against her and she couldn't control the moan.

"I think we oughta go ta the blanket," Daryl said when their lips parted. Carol found his lips again, prolonging the search a little more.

"We're in public," she said, realizing her breathing wasn't as steady as she wanted it to be.

"Ain't nobody out here," he said.

"Daryl!" Carol scolded. "We can't do that here!"

Daryl grinned at her.

"Come on…" he urged. "Why the hell not? Who's gonna fuckin' see us? We got a blanket an' we got towels. We'll be careful about it."

Carol felt Daryl pushing them forward, moving his hand from the ladder to the dock and then inching it down the dock a little at a time to propel them. Carol giggled a little at the smile on his face. When they reached the shallower water, Daryl scooped his hand down under her and heaved her up, almost forcing her to wrap her legs around him to keep from throwing them both off balance. He wrapped the other arm around her then, supporting her, and carried her out of the lake and up to the blanket.

Daryl lowered Carol down and her feet finally touched down on the grass. He dipped his head, kissing at her neck.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable with this," she said.

Daryl slipped his arms around her again, pulling her closer to him. Her body was cool from the night air hitting the water, but his was warm against her. He slipped his hand just in the waistband of the back of the bikini and trailed his finger back and forth there, kissing at her neck and shoulders.

"Ain't nobody gonna see us," he said when he pulled away. "Ya think other people ain't done this? Hell I heard Merle an' Andrea talkin' 'bout it. We just gon' cover ourselves up with towel."

"Well look at you," Carol teased. "You've come along way, Daryl. Now you're setting up scenarios for us to do things in public?"

Daryl grinned and pushed her back just a little so that she stepped back on the edge of the blanket.

"Ain't gon' make ya do it," Daryl said, "but I'm promisin' ya ain't nobody gon' know but us."

Carol could feel her heart pounding. She knew it wasn't that serious of a thing to do, but she felt like she was getting ready to agree to commit bank robbery or something of the sort. She looked around again and made sure that they were completely alone. Finally she sat down on the blanket. Daryl grinned and ran off.

"Where are you going?" Carol asked, watching him dart for the truck.

"I was teasin' ya," Daryl said. "Wanted ta see what ya'd say 'fore I told ya I even brought us an extra blanket so ya ain't even gotta worry 'bout the towels not coverin' us up."

Carol laughed. She couldn't believe that Daryl had gone through all of this. She knew that once he'd discovered it, he really liked sex, but this was an elaborate plan for a man that just a little while ago seemed to think that parking had been something that she'd invented almost single handedly.

Daryl came back carrying an extra blanket that he spread out quickly, letting it fall across Carol's lap. He dropped down to the blanket and slid up under the cover, immediately straddling her and pushing her back on the grass.

Carol almost laughed to herself. His plan may have been elaborate, but his execution was still just as straightforward as ever. He kissed her deeply and ran one of his hands up her stomach, the calluses on his fingers scratching her slightly as he ran it under the cup of the bathing suit top and squeezed her breast. She moaned into his mouth.

Pulling herself away, she tried to catch her breath for a moment.

"Wait a minute," she said.

Daryl stayed, hovering above her, his weight supported mostly by one arm and the one hand still on her breast. She reached around him and flipped the blanket up, assuring herself they were covered against the prying eyes of any would be peeping Tom.

Carol swallowed, trying to calm her heartbeat a little. She felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest.

"I'm just going to take the bottoms off," she said. "You can just pull yours down enough, right? That way if someone were to come up we're not completely naked."

Daryl nodded and Carol worked to wriggle her way free from the bottoms, since apparently Daryl didn't think getting off of her at all was any part of this plan. She finally got them off, though, when he lifted a little to slide his shorts down, and then she spread her knees around him, letting him sink down.

Daryl brought his mouth back to her neck, sucking at the skin there while his hand worked her nipple. He entered her all at once with a hard thrust and she grunted at him without being able to stop herself. He froze and looked at her.

"Ya OK?" He asked.

She nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Just…next time…maybe we could go at that a little smoother or slower, OK?"

Daryl nodded and planted a few varied kisses on her face.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's OK, really," she said. She bucked her hips to encourage him to move again instead of staying there locked in worry. He responded and she closed her eyes, trying to think about enjoying herself instead of silently panicking about what everyone would think if they knew she was having sex on a blanket beside the lake. She was having a hard time focusing until Daryl moved his hand between them and teased her, drawing her mind entirely away from the possible shame of people finding out that for once in her life Carol Ann McAlister had a sex life.

When Carol came she bit back her cry, moaning against Daryl's shoulder. He tried to stifle his own, but wasn't nearly as successful as she was. Still, she didn't think that they'd been discovered.

As Daryl came down from his high, he moved beside her, still somewhat leaning over her, and kissed her neck again. He leaned on his left elbow and his right hand slipped inside the bathing suit top again and absentmindedly toyed with her nipple, pinching it gently.

Carol leaned a little, bringing her mouth to his and enjoying the lazy kiss they shared, both still panting a little from the exertion and the excitement.

She felt an ache, for a moment, inside and wanted so badly to tell him that she loved him. It frightened her, though to think that she was admitting it to herself. Part of her cried out that it was far too early to love him and she was being ridiculous. What she felt right now wasn't love. It was lust probably. She was just lust drunk from being with the first man that had ever given her a sex life and didn't make her feel ashamed of her body or of the fact that she _let_ him touch her.

Ed had never given her that. From the beginning he criticized her body. Every dimple, every imperfection…he drew attention to it. Told her that it made her disgusting, that it made him sick. The only reason he had sex with her was simply to relieve himself, not because of any real desire. And then he made her feel worse if she'd responded in any way. It was dirty, and it was wrong, if she responded, even if it was something that she couldn't control. Eventually, though it had been easier and easier not to earn that scolding from Ed. She'd gotten to the point that she'd hated him so much that her body didn't respond in any way. She hadn't wanted his touch at all, so she surely hadn't enjoyed it.

Gone, though, was all of that with Daryl. He hadn't once criticized any part of her body. He hadn't even been disgusted by her scars and they disgusted even her. He encouraged sex, even through setting up plans like this, and he seemed rewarded with every moan and every shiver that her body produced, whether she wanted it to happen or not. Daryl liked sex with her and he wanted her to like sex with him, and that was something completely foreign to her senses.

And so she tried to tell herself that this feeling that she felt, the warmth that she felt and the aching in her chest right now…it was all tied to lust. It was all tied to her simply being thankful to Daryl for letting her know that she had some kind of sexuality and that, even though she was still ashamed of it, he didn't think it was anything to be ashamed of.

It was far too early in their relationship to think that she loved him, and it was certainly too early to dare to utter words like that out loud. Carol didn't know how Daryl would respond to them if he ever heard them, but she feared that saying she loved him could be the biggest mistake that she could make. He would probably run as fast as he could, as far away as he could get.

The ache continued, and she swallowed it down. Daryl hovered above her now, his finger tracing around her face, tickling just a little.

"Ya look awful serious," he said, leaning closer to her, his eyebrows knitting together. She tried to be mindful of her expression and forced herself to smile. She leaned up, kissing him softly.

"I'm not," she said.

"Ya OK?" He asked. "I didn't hurt'cha did I? I'm sorry."

She shook her head, the ache coming back for a moment. She felt, almost, like she might cry and that was one of the last things she wanted, second only to slipping and saying she loved him.

"I'm fine, Daryl. You didn't hurt me. It was wonderful," she said.

Daryl smiled and kissed her again. He lie down beside her now, his head on the towel right next to hers.

"Sorry we ain't did much swimmin'," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled a little.

"Oh, this was better than swimming," she said. "I think I'll be nice and wash Andrea's bathing suit for her, though."

Daryl snickered.

"Nice night for it, though, ain't it?" He said.

"It is," she said. She yawned and knew that if Daryl was anything like he was back at the apartment, he'd be trying to go to sleep soon. "Let's go home, though, OK? We need to relieve Andrea from Lincoln sitting and I'm kind of tired."

Daryl started to sit up then, shifting around and situating his shorts. Carol burrowed under the blanket and struggled into the wet bathing suit bottoms.

"Maybe we could try it again when we get back," Daryl said. "Ya know, practice a little more since I ain't quite got the whole gettin' started part right for ya."

Carol grinned at him and leaned over, kissing him again before she got to her feet and started folding up the blanket that had been on top of them.

"Do you ever get tired?" She asked.

"Of sex?" Daryl asked, standing up and starting to fold the bottom blanket.

"Yeah," Carol said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Don't know," he said. "I ain't yet but we can try if ya got a mind ta find out."

Carol laughed at him, shaking her head. She didn't know if she would ever have the stamina to keep up with Daryl Dixon or even if her poor body could handle it, but it might be fun to find out.


	47. Chapter 47

**AN: OK I wanted to get this out to keep things progressing. I have had a lot of distraction, etc. going on today, so I'm not thrilled with this chapter at all, but it needed to be written to get me over the hump and moving more in directions that I want to go. So forgive the imperfections and the fact that it's not liable to be anyone's favorite chapter. LOL I'll try to make it up to you somewhere down the line. **

**I hope you enjoy…at least somewhat. LOL**

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As time passed, Carol began to feel like she was the happiest that she'd been in her entire life. She was back to work now and she was beginning not to worry about Ed. She still worried about him some, and from time to time she would catch herself seeing someone at a glance that resembled him in stature or had a similar profile and she would jump a little or her breath would catch, but for the most part she wasn't actively worried about him like she had been.

She didn't understand all that went on with the legal system, but she'd given testimonies and talked to individuals that Michonne took her to have appointments with. Michonne handled everything, really, though, so that all Carol had to do was ask for time off from work when Michonne told her it was necessary and go along with her to sign things or make statements.

It was finally becoming official, though, that Ed would be out of her life, at least physically. The most troubling thing now was that she had no idea how to get him out of her head. So much of him still haunted her.

It was especially bad at night, when her subconscious mind took over. She couldn't stop the nightmares from coming, and it seemed that the more comfortable her waking mind grew with his absence, the more worried her subconscious mind grew and it offered her more and more nightmares of how he would spring back into her life and destroy everything.

Daryl didn't ask her about the nightmares, ever. She woke from them, wrapped in his arms, usually with him calling her name or shaking her, but he wouldn't ask what they were about. Typically he'd just switch on the light and lie there, holding her and telling her that everything was fine, until she drifted back off. She'd wake up the next morning and everything would be normal and he'd go about his day without mentioning them at all.

Her relationship with Daryl was something that made her happy as well, though she often did her best to try to hide some of her feelings about it. She still felt, somewhat, that Daryl didn't really think about their relationship too much. For him it was just a routine that they'd fallen into and it was something comfortable. It didn't have labels and it didn't need explanations. He was fine with it just happening and that being that. Carol was afraid that if it got more complicated or if people started making demands to know what was going on between them or what they felt about each other, then Daryl might panic simply from not knowing how to respond or how to react.

She almost shuddered sometimes when someone at Lula's would ask her about Daryl. The whole town knew about them, clearly something like that wasn't going to stay quiet in Sweet Junction, and with her very public divorce from Ed taking place, people were beginning to talk a little louder now than they had before about the Dixons and about her relationship status with Daryl.

Carol didn't mind the questions, really. She tried to keep things as calm as she could. She said she was "seeing" Daryl or she was "talking" to him. She said he was a very nice man, a good man, he treated her well. She tried her best to keep her responses to anything they asked as gray as possible, but she worried about some nosy person pressuring Daryl somewhere and causing some kind of possible meltdown in whatever system it was that they had developed.

She was comfortable with Daryl, and she didn't want to lose that. It was a comfort that she couldn't explain. She felt safe around him, but not just in the sense that she felt he would protect her, that she wasn't going to come to physical harm around him. No. It was something more. She felt comfortable with herself when she was around Daryl, and that was something that she'd thought she'd never feel. It was something that Ed had worked so hard to take from her, and he'd been so good at it that he had stripped it from her, but now Daryl was giving it back, piece by piece.

Daryl made her feel like she was fine. Simply that. She was just fine as she was. He didn't criticize anything about her. When she started cosmetology classes with Andrea, he didn't tell her that she'd never make it, that she was only destined to fail. He simply nodded, accepted that she was taking classes, and that had been all the discussion about it that was necessary. When she was proud of some little trick or another that she'd taught Lincoln, she could show it to Daryl and he'd simply smile at the fact that the dog had learned something. There was no need to beat her down for it and tell her that she was stupid for working with him or that she'd failed as a dog parent because she hadn't taught him a different trick.

Daryl made her feel like she was attractive too. Whether she was dressed in something that she hoped would catch his attention or wearing old sweatpants around the apartment, he acted like she was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. She found his fascination with her, his fascination with having sex with her, exciting, even if she couldn't fully understand it.

Her life was becoming something she'd never even imagined before. It was slowly becoming even better than the dream that she'd made for herself.

And now, today, there was even more excitement in her life. Michonne had come by earlier, dropping off the first check that she'd be getting from Ed. The very first of what Michonne declared would be quite a few. She'd also brought by a notebook full of tile designs, wood designs, paint splotches and the like for Carol to look at. Tomorrow they were going together, as soon as Carol got off work at Lula's to pick out the little house that would soon be her home. She had a week to decide on the details for it so that when they put the little house together it would be done to her specifications.

Carol sat at the table, flipping through the book, going back and forth between the decisions that she thought she'd already made. She wanted everything to be perfect. It had to be perfect. Daryl had come in, briefly, and without more than a quick peck on the lips hello, he'd taken Lincoln out for a walk. She couldn't wait for him to get back inside so she could tell him the good news about the check and the house. He wouldn't be as excited as her, but at least it was someone else to tell and Andrea hadn't made it home yet from her part time job at the Korean restaurant in town.

When Daryl came through the door, finally, he let Lincoln off his lease and went directly to the refrigerator to get something to drink.

"Andrea's bringin' us supper," he said, cracking open the top on a can of soda and taking a swig, leaning back against the counter.

"Did Lincoln go like a good boy?" Carol asked, leaning over to scratch the head of the puppy who came to greet her as though he hadn't seen a year or two instead of only the maybe fifteen minutes that they'd been gone.

"Yeah," Daryl said, sipping at the soda again.

"He gets a treat, then," Carol said.

Daryl chuckled a little and dug around in the cookie jar on the counter where Carol had started keeping Lincoln's treats.

"Why the hell does he get a treat just for doin' what nature's gonna make him do any damn way," Daryl said, leaning down to give the milkbone to the dog that already reacted when he heard the lid on the cookie jar rattle.

"Because," Carol explained, flipping through the book absently, "he does it outside and not on the floor, so he gets a treat."

"He does it on the floor too," Daryl said. "Taught me how to hop all the way to the damn bathroom this mornin'."

Carol chuckled.

"Well he doesn't get a treat for that, only when he does it outside," she said.

Daryl took another drink out of the can and put it on the counter.

"What'cha lookin' at? One a' them hair books ya got?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked up at him and grinned.

"No, come here. Sit down. I want to show you," she said, trying to contain her excitement.

Daryl walked over to the table and sat down and she pushed the book in front of him. He flipped through a couple of the pages before looking at her like she'd lost her mind.

"What the hell is it?" He asked.

"It's samples," Carol said. She showed him the notebook she'd been writing down numbers in of the samples she liked the best so far. "I got some money from Ed for the house. I'm going tomorrow to pick it out and Tyreese sent the samples by with Michonne so that I can pick out all the details."

She was right, Daryl didn't look nearly as excited as she was.

"Details?" He asked.

Carol nodded.

"Yes, like the book has wood, but the wood is standard in all the houses, but I can pick out the countertops and the floors. And Michonne brought over some paint samples so I can pick out what color their painting the shutters," Carol explained, flipping through some of the pages and showing him what she'd been looking at since Michonne left.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"What's it matter?" He asked.

Carol frowned.

"It matters a lot, Daryl! This is going to be my house! I'm not renting this house like I am the apartment. I'm going to own this house. It's going to be exactly what I want it to be," she said.

Part of her wanted to know if Daryl wanted to go with her to look at the house and to pick it out, but she felt like it wouldn't interest him and if Merle caught wind of her asking him to go with her to pick out a house then he'd likely launch into one of his long winded Merle speeches.

Merle had gotten a little better lately. He'd quit drinking at the urging of Daryl and Andrea, though no one drew attention to the change simply for fear that Merle would respond negatively to the praise and think that he'd done something to comply with someone's wishes, and Merle didn't like to comply with anyone's wishes but Merle's. It worked out much better to notice the change silently and pretend that you had seen nothing.

He was still the same old Merle, though, when it came to giving lengthy and often vulgar explanations of how he perceived committed relationships and how he believed that women would trap men into these horrendous things that would clearly lead to something akin to sudden and terrible death.

Andrea joked with Carol that by the time she'd lived fifty or so years with Merle, perhaps he'd be ready to admit that there was some form of commitment between them and perhaps he'd also be able to admit that he hadn't suffered any great malady because of it, but it would take time.

Carol worried that Daryl soaked up some of his brother's comments from time to time, so she tried to avoid anything that made it look like they were in some kind of evil committed relationship, though in all honesty she had no other way to explain what was going on with them. Most everything that Daryl owned still resided at the apartment across the hall, but Daryl only went over there to get things he needed. He slept at her apartment, ate most all of his meals there, and spent his free time there. She avoided, though, suggesting that they lived together, and now she would avoid asking about whether or not he'd move to the new house with her in order to keep him from running into some of Merle's hogwash. If he wanted to move with her, she'd just let it happen as naturally as everything else had seemed to happen so far instead of drawing attention to the event.

Daryl shrugged off her excitement about the house, though, and she forgave him. She would be excited about it and that's all that really mattered. He didn't have to share the same enthusiasm. For Daryl, apparently, the house was just a place to live, and she could accept that. She didn't need her dream to be his dream if the pieces just didn't fit. She hoped that all the ones that really mattered would work and that would be the end of it.

"Do you want to see what I picked out?" She offered, just to test how far his disinterest went.

Daryl shrugged.

"I reckon ya can show me," he said. She smiled. She was fully aware that he was just humoring her at the moment, but she'd take it.

She flipped through the book, showing him the samples that she'd narrowed things down to and he sat with his head resting on his hand while he looked at it with the same general interest that she'd had every time someone had tried to force her to watch a football game. Finally she closed the book and slid it out of the way, deciding not to torture him any farther.

"It doesn't matter," she said, smiling. "You'll see it when it's done."

Daryl looked at her like he was waking up from a nap. He blinked a few times.

"Looks good," he said. "I like it."

She couldn't help but chuckle. She appreciated the lie for what it was worth.

"What is Andrea bringing for dinner?" She asked. She'd intended to make him a casserole for dinner, but if Andrea was delivering food she could save it for another night.

Daryl shrugged again.

"Don't know, some a' that Korean shit," Daryl said. He liked eating it, but he didn't care to learn the name of anything that he ate.

"Fine," Carol said. "I think I'm going to take a shower while we wait."

Daryl looked at her like she'd just suggested they douse him in gasoline and light him on fire while they waited for dinner.

"I was thinkin' we had enough time ta talk," Daryl said.

Carol had long since discovered that Daryl thought "talk" was synonymous with "have sex." The error had accidentally begun one evening when she'd suggested they spend some time just talking on the couch and they'd ended up spending the whole trying out new positions instead. Since then, she could pretty much tell that when Daryl suggested they "just talk," especially if it involved an evening at home and time on the couch, talking was one of the last things he had on his mind.

Carol smiled at him.

"Why don't we _talk_ after dinner?" Carol asked. Daryl looked like he didn't like that suggestion. She rested her face on her hand, trying to quickly hide her smile. He'd probably already spent his whole walk with Lincoln thinking about their "talk" and he thought that looking at her boring sample book would buy him guaranteed talking privileges. "Daryl," she said, "I need a shower. I haven't been to work in two days, and I realized today that I haven't showered since I got ready for work last. I'm gross. Also, since the weather's been changing and I've gotten away with wearing long jeans to both jobs, I haven't shaved my legs or anything else in two weeks, and you didn't say anything. Haven't you even noticed?"

Carol had to admit that she'd been a little horrified that morning when she'd realized how long it had been since she'd even considered it might be a good idea to shave. The change in uniforms was, according to Andrea, standard at the Watering Hole with the changing weather, but Carol had gotten it instituted at Lula's, insisting that she could still wear the apron and look just as wholesome in jeans as she could in a skirt. Jacqui and Donna had both backed her up, jumping at the chance to part company with the horrible uniforms they had.

Daryl grinned at her.

"Hell yeah I noticed," he said. "I was pettin' ya leg the other night for five minutes in bed 'fore I realized Lincoln was sleepin' on the floor."

Carol swatted at him.

"I didn't pay it any attention! Why didn't you say something?" Carol asked.

Daryl grinned again and shrugged.

"Don't know," he said. "Weren't that big a deal."

Carol stood up.

"Well it's a big deal now and I'm going to shower before dinner. You'll just have to wait to talk later when I don't smell and I don't look like a fur baring mammal," she said.

"Can I come with ya?" Daryl asked.

"No, you cannot come with me," she said. "You know that when you come with me it takes three times as long to get anything done and Andrea will be here before we get done."

Daryl chuckled.

"She's got a key," he said. "We can just tape a note ta the door sayin' leave the food."

Carol rolled her eyes at him but she couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

"I'm going to shower, Daryl," she said. "You do whatever it is that you do when I'm not entertaining you and wait for Andrea to get here with the food, please?"

"Fine," Daryl said, looking a little wounded.

Carol smiled and leaned in to kiss him. He grabbed her waist and pulled her into his lap and she pressed against him, deepening the kiss for a moment. She felt his hands gliding over her back and immediately knew he was trying to distract her. She broke the kiss for a moment.

"I'm still going to shower," she growled at him.

He snickered a little and popped her with the band on her bra.

"Ow!" She protested, swatting him on the chest. He didn't really hurt her, but she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her. "You do that again and I'm not going to make the shower up to you after dinner!"

"Fine!" Daryl said, pushing at her like he was going to push her out of his lap. "Go take ya damn shower, but it better be worth it."

Carol giggled at him.

"Oh, it'll be worth it," she teased.

Carol left Daryl to do whatever it was that Daryl did to entertain himself, though she wasn't sure what that was since it seemed like he spent very little time entertaining himself when they were both off work, and she slipped into the bathroom to take her shower and freshen up.

She was so excited about the house that she could hardly contain herself, and even though Daryl didn't share her excitement about it, she was going to share hers with him right after they finished whatever it was that Andrea surprised them with. He might not be excited about the house, but she could at least make him excited about how getting it made her feel.


	48. Chapter 48

Carol could barely contain herself during work the next day. She actually made extra tips and all she could contribute it to was the fact that her excitement at going to see the house was spilling out of her and getting the attention of the clientele. She knew she was grinning like a Cheshire cat because her face hurt from the action by the time that Michonne dropped by to pick her up.

Carol got in Michonne's car and tossed her apron over the back seat. Michonne grinned at her.

"Excited?" Michonne asked.

"I can't remember when I've been this excited," Carol said. "I don't know that I ever have!"

"You look pretty damn excited," Michonne said with a laugh. She pulled the car out of the parking spot and drove toward the housing development. "Now remember, Ty picked out one for you because he thought it was the nicest one, but if that isn't the one that you want, you don't have to take it."

Carol nodded. She knew that Michonne had asked Tyreese about his suggestions on the houses. There were about three different floor plans and he said that, in his opinion, there was one of them that was nicer than the others and gave you a little more space. He'd also apparently scoped out the lots and narrowed it down to two that he thought were nice locations that had that floor plan.

Carol couldn't even talk to Michonne in the car. All she could do was sit there, clutching the handle on the door and try to wrap her mind around the thought that she was actually going to pick out her house. And it was going to be her dream house. She was even getting the entire yard fenced in with a small little white picket fence so that Lincoln could run and play in the front and the back without any worries. Everything about the house was going to be perfect.

She knew that it was probably ridiculous to Michonne and Andrea that she was so excited, since both of them teased her about not having loftier goals, but she couldn't help it. She wanted what she wanted and she'd always dreamed of having a home…her home.

She'd never considered the house where she lived with Ed as her home. As soon as she began to realize the kind of life that she was in for with him, she'd stopped even trying to imagine it as some kind of home. It was a hell, and she didn't think that the feeling she associated with the idea of home and the feeling she associated with the idea of hell should go hand in hand.

The house itself was just a structure, and she understood that. The little dollhouse like building would be designed to be the perfect little structure to house her dream. It would be decorated like she wanted and painted the way she wanted, but the house was just part of her dream. The other part, clearly, would be the _home_ part and that she related to so many other things that circled around in her mind.

Her home would be a place, at least in her mind, which smelled like clean laundry, and good things baking, and it would be safe and secure and comfortable. It would be a place where there was only room for love. She'd share it with Lincoln, and maybe even with Daryl if he wanted to be a part of it, and eventually she may raise her children there. In her mind, this home meant so much to her that she would have felt silly putting into words for anyone else, and the house was just the first step to getting there.

As they pulled up at the development, into the driveway where Tyreese was standing and waiting on them, Carol resisted the urge to give into her five year old self that wanted to burst out of the car like it was Christmas morning and all her wildest dreams were about to come true. Once Michonne had stopped the car, Carol waited eagerly until she opened her door before pushing open her own.

Tyreese circled around the car and Carol watched as he gave Michonne a quick peck of a kiss. Carol didn't know why, but she felt awkward even watching that. She hated to feel like she butted in on anyone's intimate moments, even when they weren't that intimate. She blushed a little and looked away, surveying the lot and house in front of her. It wasn't done yet, but she'd known it wouldn't be done. It was close to being done and awaiting her orders for the final touches.

"Ready to have a look?" Tyreese asked, drawing Carol's attention back.

She smiled and nodded, again hoping not to appear too overenthusiastic.

Tyreese gestured for her to go ahead and she started up the path toward the house. She walked along, quickly, knowing that Tyreese and Michonne were behind her. When she stepped into the house, she almost squealed. The floor plan he'd chosen because he thought it was the best was the one that she'd been imaginarily living in. She would have hated to insist on an inferior floor plan, so she was glad the two coincided. She wandered through the house, looking around at the unfinished rooms as though she didn't already have the entire place pretty much memorized.

Carol circled around now, looking out all the windows and examining the view carefully from each window, paying special attention to the one in front of the sink. She was sure that if the two houses they were going to look at were identical and the lots essentially the same, it would come down to a decision of which view she preferred while standing at the window in the morning. At least that's what she'd decided.

Once she was satisfied, they went and looked at the second house and she passed through it with the same thorough inspection. In the end, though, it was the first that had won her affections.

"Fine," Tyreese said. "Then consider it reserved for you, specially. The rest of the houses just have plain white shutters, but Michonne informs me that we'll be painting yours to your specifications and if you get me your choices for the house by the end of the week there won't be any problem getting everything in the house ordered and installed in time."

"And what about the fencing?" Michonne asked.

Tyreese chuckled a little.

"Get me that and it's no problem to get that installed too. We have similar fences going up around a few other houses around here. It's just another minor detail," Tyreese said, smiling at Michonne.

Carol couldn't contain her excitement any longer and she wrapped her arms around Tyreese as a thank you. He laughed at her and hugged her back.

"Carol's already got the check, so we're going to head to the bank and start getting all the financial business taken care of," Michonne said.

"Sounds good," Tyreese said. "You can stop by and look at it any time you like."

Carol nodded and thanked him. She headed back to the car, leaving Michonne and Tyreese to say whatever goodbyes it was they had to say, not wanting to invade their moment. She was on cloud nine anyway. The plan, now, was to go to the bank and get things rolling so she'd be ready to move in her little house just as soon as it was ready for her.

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"Does it have a garage?" Andrea asked, sitting back in the chair with her feet up, her box of mystery Chinese noodles resting on her knees.

"Yes," Carol responded. "It's not huge, but it does have a small garage."

They were studying for one of their classes, which meant that Daryl and Merle were off entertaining themselves, or more than likely just shooting the breeze with each other across the hall since Merle avoided the Watering Hole these days and the temptation it provided for him to drink now that he'd achieved his unmentioned level of sobriety.

Right this moment, though, they weren't exactly studying. They'd ordered Chinese food and were discussing Carol's new house over their dinner.

"Is it big enough for us to use, though?" Andrea asked.

Carol considered it. She knew that Andrea was already planning the salon of their dreams, or at least the salon of Andrea's dreams, but she was beginning to wonder if she really wanted her garage converted into a salon. If she worked there, she wasn't going to want it attached to her house. It might mess up the feeling of her little home to have clients coming back and forth. She didn't want people disrupting her home.

"I don't want to have the salon in my garage," Carol said finally.

"I thought that was the plan," Andrea said, cramming far more noodles in her mouth than should have gone in at any one given time.

"That was _your_ plan," Carol corrected. "It didn't have a whole lot to do with me."

"You liked it," Andrea mumbled through her mouthful of food.

Carol nodded.

"I thought I did, but now I've thought about it. Why have it in anyone's garage? There are plenty of little businesses that have shut down and keep shutting down in Sweet Junction because someone got the idea to open some little boutique or another that never gets shopped at. Why don't we wait until we know we're going to do this thing and then we invest in one of those little places? If we split the costs then we both own the place, fifty fifty, the location is better, and neither one of us has to live right up under our work," Carol said.

Andrea considered it a moment and finally nodded, shrugging a little.

"I guess it could work," she said. "If you think we could afford some place. I mean we aren't exactly rolling in money…well I'm not…you're doing a little better these days."

"The money I'm getting from Ed is going directly into the house. That's it, and I figure that Ed owes me that. He owes me something and it might as well be my house," Carol said.

Andrea nodded.

"I'll agree, he owes you the house. How would we afford a business, though?" Andrea asked.

"We'll start putting away for it," Carol said. "Hell, when we finish school we'll work double time for experience, put away money, and then we'll get a good deal where we can make payments on the place."

"Too bad you can't exactly get investors for a hair salon," Andrea said.

"It doesn't matter," Carol said. "Look how long we've waited to do this." She gestured at the books lying on the table. "I suppose we can wait a little longer to own our own business."

"Sure gonna be something when we do, though," Andrea said.

Carol nodded.

"Finish eating," she commanded. "We're never going to get to own the business if we can't pass the classes."

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"How long ya reckon it's gonna last, lil' brothah?" Merle asked.

He and Daryl were at the card table eating pizza and playing a half ass gambling game that Daryl was pretty sure that Merle made up while betting matchsticks they'd dug out of the designated junk drawer.

"What?" Daryl asked, taking another bite of the pizza and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"This thing ya got goin' on with ya lil' sweetheart, Carol?" Merle asked. He pulled another slice of pizza out of the box and put it on the table next to him.

"For fuck's sake, Merle, use tha damn paper towel I gave ya," Daryl growled. "An' stop bustin' my fuckin' balls about Carol. I'm sick a' ya shit."

Merle shook his head and moved the pizza slice to the paper towel.

"I'm serious, boy, I ain't just bustin' ya nuts," Merle said.

What bothered Daryl most was that his brother was sober and he knew right this minute he was serious. It was about as close to a heart to heart conversation as you ever got with Merle.

"She's buyin' one a' them damn houses in that nice ass little development. Her lawyer friend done helped her pick it out with my damn boss man. Ya girl's steppin' up, Daryl," Merle said. "Ya ain't seen this shit before but I'ma tell ya a little bit 'bout tha damn world, baby brothah…people start changin' one damn part a' the way they live an' all that shit changes."

Daryl eyed Merle across the table and took another bite of his pizza. The card game, it seemed, would go unfinished at least until Merle had gotten what was on his mind off of it.

"We was all equals, Daryl. When she ain't had a pot ta piss in or a window ta throw the shit out of," Merle continued. "Hell, if ya ain't got shit, ya gon' be most comfortable with other damn people ain't got shit 'cause ain't nobody there judgin' ya ass fer ya piss poor situation. Now, though, she gon' be livin' with a buncha snotty ass people got more than they need. Ain't gon' take her long ta start wantin' ta fit in, be all fancy an' shit like they is, an' she ain't gon' need no damn redneck boyfriend crampin' her style. She's got money now, boy, an' she ain't gon' be on tha same damn level we is no more."

Daryl wiped his mouth, chewing at his thumb a little.

"An' I ain't just bustin' ya ass neither, 'cause Andrea? She's good as gone too, ya can mark my word. Ain't no need gettin' all damn attached ta her. They doin' this schoolin' shit now. Gonna be educated broads an' workin' women. Ain't gon' be waitin' no tables and rubbin' damn elbows with the lower rungs a' Sweet Junction society. Hell nah…gon' be some a' tha upper crust an' gon' wanna look like it too. You an' me both, lil' brothah, we on the way out," Merle said.

"Ya don't know what'cha fuckin' talkin' 'bout," Daryl said. "Ya just keep runnin' ya damn mouth but ya still full a' shit."

Merle chuckled. He took a bite of the pizza and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"I seen it before, Daryl. Once they move on up a lil' then you'll see what tha hell I'm talkin' 'bout. First they'll try ta make tha damn shit OK. They'll go, lil' bit by lil' bit tryin' ta change us both. Soon as they see that tha damn dough's set an' these biscuits ain't changin', then they'll move tha fuck on," Merle said. "Ya mark my word, lil' brothah, we both on tha damn way out with them. Ya might as well start gettin' used ta the idea so ya don't get'cha lil' feelin's crushed so damn bad. I know ya sensitive an' shit like tha lil' princess ya is…but it's gon' be just me an' you again soon enough, Derlina…just like it always was."

"Shut the fuck up, Merle," Daryl growled. "Damn! Can't even have no fuckin' decent evenin' with ya 'cause ya got ta be runnin' ya fuckin' mouth. I shoulda just stayed at work an' earned some extra fuckin' money while they was studyin' their hair shit. Least Hershel Greene's fuckin' cows got damn better personalities than you do."

Merle chuckled again.

"I'm sorry, Derlina," he said in a condescending tone. "Did I hurt ya feelin's?"

Daryl rolled his eyes at him and flung some of the match sticks in his direction. Merle laughed in response.

"Fine, Daryl. I ain't gon' say nothin' else about it, but don't say I didn't warn ya when ya right back here campin' out with ya ole brothah…'member Derlina, blood's tha only damn thing ya got sometimes. I'm tha only one ain't never left ya, an' I ain't goin' nowhere, no matter how many a' ya damn princess fits ya throw over that woman ner any other ya get a whiff of once she's moved on ta greener pastures," Merle said.

Daryl bit off the pizza and realized he didn't really want the rest of it. Merle was quiet now, but he might as well be. He'd already run his mouth off to his heart's content.

Daryl wanted to believe that Carol wasn't like that. He wanted to think that a house was just a house and it wasn't going to be any different than her living at her little apartment across the hall except it would be a longer drive if he wanted to go back and forth between the two places, but he had to admit that Merle's words had him concerned.

He wasn't ever going to be some high crust individual. He didn't have it bred into him and it wasn't something that he wanted. There was a lot of shit about his life he'd be willing to change, but he never wanted to be one of those people that walked around and looked down their noses on people…looked down their noses at him. He'd rather have people look down on him any day than know he was the kind of asshole that was doing the looking down.

He couldn't see Carol looking down her nose at anyone, and he'd never seen her judge anyone since he'd known her, but now he wondered if that was because she didn't feel like she was in a position to do so. He knew that she was supposed to be getting a decent amount of money from Ed, and she was moving into a nice neighborhood, but he wondered if that was really enough to change who she was or how she acted. More than that, he wondered if something like that was enough to change how she looked at him.

Daryl tried to turn his attention back to the stupid game that Merle was now interested in playing, but his mind kept wandering. It wasn't something that he could very well come out and ask Carol about. Even the people that thought they were better than everybody else would tell anyone that they didn't think they were. They never saw how it was they acted because everyone around them acted the same damn way.

No, it wasn't something that she could predict or plan. It wasn't something that he could get off his chest and expect her to assure him that Merle was wrong about how it was that some people got to thinking they were better than others. It was just one of those things that he was going to have to hope wouldn't happen, and he was just going to have to find a way to suck it up and deal with it if it did.


	49. Chapter 49

Carol was at Lula's before she even had to be for her morning shift. Jacqui came in early too and they greeted the kitchen staff as everyone got set up. The job situation at Lula's Diner was never really a stressful one. The doors theoretically opened at seven, but if everyone was ready to go they could open as early as six thirty. Early wasn't a problem at Lula's, it was late that got her annoyed.

And so by ten minutes to seven, Carol and Jacqui had the coffee going and they opened the doors to the small diner, waiting for the morning work crowd to trickle in. Early mornings consisted mostly of those that would stop, quickly, for a cup of coffee and a one of the pastries or doughnuts that were famously handmade by Lula herself the night before.

That was the real morning rush since those people never even sat down. They'd just come to the bar, make their order, take their food and rush out the door. Whoever wasn't manning those people had the old timers and the retirees. They were a much laxer crowd, trickling in whenever they pleased, often sitting in the same places. They'd start with coffee, always, ask if the papers had been delivered yet, eventually they'd order some early bird special plate or an omelet and they'd sit around reading the paper, drinking cup after cup of coffee, and swapping stories with each other. That crowd would linger around until it was almost time for the early lunch crew.

Days at Lula's were pretty predictable, to say the least, but then again most everything in Sweet Junction was predictable.

Jacqui took the counter for the morning and Carol went about passing out cups of coffee to all the familiar old faces that trickled into the diner. Mostly it was old retired men, escaping for some little amount of time from their wives, and a good number of them knew her because they'd known her parents and known her grandparents. They were always full of smiles and good mornings.

"Mornin' Carol Ann," Dale Horvath said as she put two cups of coffee on the table.

"Good morning, Dale," Carol said. "Where's Irma?"

Dale and Irma always had breakfast together. Every morning like clockwork. They'd come into the diner together and at first they wouldn't talk much, just sit and stare at each other, each of them preparing their coffee with the same concentration a soldier used to prepare himself for battle. They were never ready to order breakfast when you came around the first time, and usually not the second time either. They wanted to finish that first cup of coffee before the breakfast order went in, even though it never varied. Both of them always got eggs, scrambled, bacon and grits. Dale always ordered a pastry of some sort and that only varied because what Lula prepared the night before was unpredictable. Irma would harass Dale about the pastry and his weight and he would ignore her comments, but that got their sparse breakfast conversation started. They'd chat about one thing or the other until the plates came, eat in silence, and then they'd share the paper, silently passing each other one piece after another, speaking only to point out things that they wanted to be sure the other had seen, even though they read the same thing. Once the paper was done, they'd finish their coffee, pay for breakfast, and leave with Dale always stopping to hold the door for Irma to pass through.

Carol thought Dale and Irma's routine was precious. It made her day to watch them eat breakfast together. She thought it was a lovely little routine. Jacqui commented on their silence a lot, and sometimes Carol thought Jacqui saw the silence as something negative. The silence in Jacqui's view meant that they didn't have anything to say to each other. Carol saw it as they didn't have to say anything to each other. The difference was a subtle one, perhaps, but it changed entirely the way the quiet was interpreted.

"She'll be along in a minute," Dale said. "She got stopped outside. Ran into Ruth Honeycutt. Ruth's showing her pictures of her grandkids, and you know Irma, she's a sucker for babies."

Carol smiled. Dale and Irma had never had kids and Carol wasn't sure why. The grapevine of Sweet Junction had a good number of reasons to offer, but Carol tried to make it a point to listen to very little that the grapevine had to say.

"Well, I'll let you decide what you want, then," Carol said.

"Paper come yet?" Dale asked.

Carol glanced toward the door where the large stack of papers usually sat once they'd been delivered. Most mornings the paper came even before they opened, but sometimes things got jammed up at the press and the paper might be a little tardy. Today was apparently one of those days.

"Not yet," Carol said. "I'm sure it won't be long."

"What kind of pastries did Lula make?" Dale asked.

Carol smiled. He was already gearing up for the conversation with Irma about whether or not he needed that pastry.

"Strawberry, blackberry, and there's another back there that we think is maybe apple cinnamon, but it might be pear," Carol said. That was the thing about Lula. She made the pastries and the doughnuts, but she didn't label them. If you wanted to know what it was, you had to smell it and taste it if that failed. There were a good many of the morning crew that were willing to be guinea pigs for the cause, of course, declaring that Lula never made a bad pastry, but Carol and Jacqui both had decided they'd wait on the cinnamon scented treat until someone who was more inclined to test it came along.

Dale nodded, smiling. He was more than aware of Lula's culinary habits.

"Probably pear," he said. "Lula's pear trees were loaded down and if she canned any of them then she's got more than enough to feed the whole diner for a couple of months."

Carol heard Jacqui say something and turned quickly. The papers had arrived and more people were trickling in now. Irma squeezed through the doors with a few of the others making their way in for breakfast and Carol waved slightly at her.

"Papers are here and Irma's here," Carol said. "I'm going to pass out some more coffee and I'll be back around with your paper and to take your order."

"Take your time," Dale said with a chuckle. "We don't have a very busy day today."

Carol smiled and started back to the back to get more coffee cups for the incoming wave.

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"So you're buying one of those houses? Those are nice. I went over there and looked at them when they finished up the first couple," Jacqui said, leaning against the counter and picking at one of the pastries. Carol was picking at one too and glancing out at the diner to make sure that none of their breakfast lingerers looked unsatisfied. This crowd didn't really need to be actively waited on. They disliked when you interrupted their reading of the paper or their conversations and if they wanted something you could see them looking toward the counter or holding up their coffee cup to let you know that they required your attention.

"They are really nice," Carol said. Admittedly there were a lot nice homes, but they tended to be closer to the center of town in what the wealthier people of Sweet Junction liked to refer to as the "Historic District" though the homes outside of town were just as old and simply not as well kept up due to the manner in which the people that lived in them typically earned their livelihoods. "You're going to have to come and see it when it's done. I'm getting sort of the V.I.P. treatment or something because of Michonne."

"That's right," Jacqui said. "She's dating Tyreese Scott, right? The man who's responsible for the project?"

"Sure is," Carol said. "You know he bought out what was left of Ed's business? It's one of the reasons that I'm able to get the house so soon. There wasn't much to buy out, but between that and Ed having to sell the house to pay for some taxes he owed on the business, it's untied a little of the money quicker than we thought."

"I'd heard he had the monopoly on things around here," Jacqui responded, "but I didn't know the details. What's he like?"

Carol shrugged a little. She'd had a couple of dinners with him and encountered him more than once with Michonne, but she didn't really feel like she was an authority on the man. He seemed nice and Michonne liked him, which Carol supposed was all that mattered. He liked her girls and that meant a lot to Michonne.

"He's a good guy, I think. He hasn't seemed to mind much the idea of the instant family," Carol said.

"Says a lot about a man," Jacqui said. "Did I tell you about my new bathroom?"

Carol shook her head, smiling.

Jacqui lived in her parents' old house which was a pretty nice little house. She'd moved in there to take care of her mother, but her mother had since gone to live at Sunnyside Retirement Home and Assisted Living. Thanks to Jacqui's father being retired military and leaving behind a little money, Jacqui could afford the help with her mother who had advanced Alzheimer's and therefore was more than Jacqui could handle on her own and still hold down a job.

Jacqui was dating a man named Theodore who happened to work for Tyreese, but other than that she was pretty much as alone in the world as Carol was. She didn't have siblings, her father had passed on, and her mother didn't recognize her even though Jacqui religiously went three times a week to have dinner with her at the home.

As a result, Jacqui was an avid do-it-yourselfer and almost always had some project or another going on at her house. Carol liked hearing about Jacqui's projects. They always excited Jacqui and Carol was always impressed, trying to imagine doing the things on her own that Jacqui seemed to accomplish. Sometimes she got help from plumbers and electricians and the like, but a good deal she struggled through on her own. It was a source of pride for her and Carol thought it well should be.

"You'll have to see it," Jacqui said. "I've redone almost the entire thing and two days ago they came and put in the new tub for me. It's a claw foot tub. One of the prettiest things I've ever seen. Got it at an auction over in Hammond. Theodore had a friend over there that heard about the auction so he asked me to go with him. I knew I wanted something nice, but the moment I saw that tub I knew it was what I had to have, you know?"

Carol chuckled.

"Yeah," she said. "I know what you mean. Sometimes you know what you want, but sometimes you don't know until it's right in front of you. I'm sure it's beautiful, though."

"It is," Jacqui said. "I just got a few more touches and that master bathroom is going to be like a sanctuary."

Carol knew that Jacqui had been working on that bathroom for as long as she'd been working there and it had been a work in progress long before that. Carol knew, though, that if you were doing anything big like that on a budget like they had, you had to be patient and know it would come together a little at a time. It was a lot like her plans with Andrea for the salon.

"I'm sure it's going to be beautiful," Carol said. "I'd love to see it when you're ready to show it off. You'll have to come and see the house when I move in too."

"You know I'm going to come and be nosy," Jacqui said with a chuckle. "I love looking at people's houses. That's how I get some of my best ideas."

Carol noticed one of the customer's glance in their direction and she excused herself for a moment, grabbing up the coffee pot since it was likely only a coffee emergency. She was correct, of course, and she glanced at the clock gauging how much longer they had before they needed to concern everyone in the kitchen about the impending arrival of the lunch crowd.

"So how are the classes going with you and Andrea?" Jacqui asked, taking the coffee pot from Carol when she returned and setting about brewing a fresh pot.

"They're going well," Carol said. "If you're interested you should see about doing it. We're talking about trying to open our own salon. Buy one of the businesses in town that shuts down. Really make it happen, you know? Three of us going in on it would make it a whole lot easier."

Jacqui chuckled.

"You know, I thought about doing something like that once. I like doing hair for my friends and all, but I just don't know if I could afford the classes…and there's work," Jacqui said.

"They're not that expensive. I could get you all the information. The place does it at a sort of work at your own speed thing. We're doing the whole thing in eighteen months total, but you can speed it up. I think they said ten months was pretty much the fastest you could do it all in. We might try to get in a little extra time here and there and knock a month or two off," Carol said.

Jacqui was quiet and Carol watched her set the coffee to brewing and rearrange the uneaten pastries in the case behind the counter.

"Running a business in Sweet Junction," Jacqui said. "Wouldn't that be something? I don't know, though. You're not scared it's a risk?"

Carol shrugged.

"It's all a risk, isn't it? It could be a good paycheck, though. And if there's three of us, at least you aren't taking the risk alone," Carol said.

Jacqui looked at her like she was thinking hard.

"If you could get me the information on the classes," Jacqui said, "I might consider it."

Carol smiled.

"Couldn't hurt to look, right? I mean Lula's isn't exactly going anywhere," Carol said.

"You got that right," Jacqui said with a chuckle. "This place sure isn't going anywhere."

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"I took him the order today," Carol said. "He's going to let me know, but it's at least going to be another month. I still want to look, though."

Carol was a few feet ahead of Daryl, walking through the park at a slower pace than Lincoln seemed to think was acceptable. She laughed a little at the puppy that bounded ahead of her, occasionally slowing himself down simply because he ran out of leash and his only other option was to hang himself.

"So ya gotta whole month," Daryl responded. "Why ya wantin' ta go lookin' at furniture when ya ain't gonna buy nothin' for a month?"

Carol turned around, walking backwards for a moment. Daryl hung back from her, looking around as he strolled. She loved the park in the evenings because there were always people out with their pets and their children. It was full of laughter and voices and people just enjoying being outside before the weather was really too cold to make it enjoyable.

But even when the weather was cold she was excited about it. She knew that every year they put up Christmas lights in the park and this year she was going to take Lincoln out walking in the cold to look at them. Ed never liked going out much in the evenings, at least not with her, so she hadn't been out there since before they'd married. She hoped that Daryl liked looking at Christmas lights, or at least that he would be willing to humor her.

"I'm going to look, Daryl, to see if they've got any good deals. That's all. I'm only getting a few must haves for the place and then I can add to it as I go. I've got to have a bed, Daryl…and a couch and dining room table would be nice. I don't think that's really going overboard with the furniture," Carol said.

They'd been talking about her desire to go to some consignment shops in neighboring towns to see if there was anything nice for the house. She simply didn't have the money to furnish the whole place. In fact, she didn't have the money to do much in the way of furnishing at all, but she thought that if she started with a few basics then she could build from there, and the consignment shops would probably have some nice old furniture.

"I don't care if what'cha wanna buy, Carol, but it don't make much sense ta just go lookin' at it if ya ain't got a place ta put it," Daryl protested.

"Fine," Carol said. "You don't have to go with me, Daryl. I can go all on my own. I just thought you might want to spend Saturday with me and that's what I'm doing on Saturday, but if you'd rather stay home and do something else then be my guest. I'm not forcing you to look at furniture."

"But ya ain't even got the house ta put it in yet!" Daryl protested.

Carol chuckled and turned back toward him again, Lincoln dragging her forward.

"I can put it on hold, Daryl. Make small payments on it until I have the house and then I take it there. That way I get what I want instead of having to buy everything in some kind of panic when it's time to move in and I don't have any furniture at all," Carol said.

She turned back around then and continued down the path, her eyes darting over the people who were walking here and there and a couple of little kids that were playing not too far ahead. Lincoln, who spent a good deal of his time walking with his nose to the ground as if he was hunting something instead of strolling through the park, noticed the kids and howled at them. Carol shushed him, scolding him about being rude and barking at strangers on their walk.

"Leave him alone," Daryl called. "Least he's startin' ta bark a lil' like a hound and less like some kinda yippy dog."

"He's a baby!" Carol called back, trying not to laugh at Daryl's insistence that Lincoln's bark was not what it should be yet. "His bark will change when he's not such a baby."

Daryl grunted behind her. She turned again, looking over her shoulder and smiling at him.

"Why don't you come up here and walk beside me, Daryl? Are you afraid someone's going to see us together?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Nah," he said. "Got a better view of ya ass from back here."

Carol stopped then, pulling Lincoln to a halt and the dog looked at her before bounding back toward her to see what had stopped their parade through the park. Daryl caught up with her then, laughing a little. He put his arm around her waist and dropped his hand enough to squeeze the very ass he'd been ogling while she'd been explaining the idea of layaway furniture to him.

"Daryl, there are kids around," Carol said.

He grinned, but he behaved and slid his arm up, wrapping it around her waist. He pushed her forward a little and they continued along the path, this time side by side.

"I reckon I'll go with ya ta look at furniture," he said. "'Cept we gotta go Sunday 'cause I'm workin' on Saturday."

Carol smiled at him. She leaned in and they stopped a moment to exchange a quick kiss before continuing on.

"I'm glad you're going with me," she said. "And that's fine. I'm off both days. Maybe, I'll make you something really nice for dinner Saturday? We could have a special evening or something at home?"

Daryl grinned.

"Ya just wanna talk," he said. "That's all ya wanna do, woman."

Carol raised his eyebrows at him.

"Fine, Daryl, we don't have to talk at all on Saturday if you don't want to. I wouldn't want you to feel put out," she said.

She purposefully chilled her voice a little and made a face at him. She turned her head, watching Lincoln and knowing that Daryl was already regretting his joke.

"I was joshin' ya," he said. "I like talkin'…"

Carol chuckled. She wasn't really annoyed in the first place, but Daryl's stuttered words made it impossible to pretend she was. She turned to face him, grinning.

"I know you were teasing," she said. "Don't worry, Daryl, I'm sure there will be plenty to talk about."

Daryl smiled at her and wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, pulling their hips almost together as they walked.


	50. Chapter 50

**AN: Wow! I can't believe it. We've made it to fifty chapters and there's still oh so much to go in this story. I hope y'all aren't getting too bored with it! **

**I'll probably have some more updates here. It's my last weekend before work madness blows up and I'm spending it mostly working on this fic. I know, I know…I'm neglecting the rest, but I can't help it. I'm in the mood to write this one right now. **

**I hope you enjoy. As always I appreciate all your reviews and comments! Thanks for sticking it out with me this long and I hope you enjoy what's still to come! **

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"I'm just saying that we should consider it. If we tell the landlord now then we can make sure that no one else gets it," Andrea said.

She was standing in the kitchen wrestling out of the clothes that literally would never come clean from the stench of Korean food. If she'd ever liked eating at the Hanging Gardens before she started working there, she was more than positive that it had been ruined forever. Something about the smell of the food got into her hair, her clothes, and even her pores. She was pretty sure that her sweat smelled like bulgogi and it wasn't just her imagination.

"Why tha fuck ya wanta move?" Merle growled. He was sitting at the card table in the kitchen clipping his toenails and she felt her stomach churn a little.

"Jesus, Merle," she said. "Why can't you do that shit in the bathroom or in the fucking bedroom? It makes me want to vomit."

"What's yer fuckin' problem now?" He asked.

She shimmied out of her pants and stepped out of them. She waved at him, more than a little frustrated.

"That! You're clipping your damn toenails in the kitchen. That's disgusting," Andrea said. "We fucking eat in here!"

"You're a fine one ta talk, paradin' ya naked ass around," Merle growled.

"My naked ass is getting in the shower," Andrea declared, gathering up her clothes. "You leave your disgusting toenails all over the damn place though and nobody wants that shit around when they're trying to eat. Not to mention I'm the one that has to sweep that shit up because apparently brooms don't exist on your planet."

Merle chuckled a little.

"Ya smell like fuckin' garlic or some shit. Go take a shower an' leave me the fuck alone," he said. "An' I don't see why tha hell ya think we oughta move."

"I'm not talking about going to fucking Jupiter, Merle, I'm talking about going across the damn hall. It doesn't even constitute much of a move if I could do it alone while you're at work. Carol's apartment is clean and a hell of a lot nicer than ours. If she's moving out then it just makes fucking sense that we take the nicer apartment instead of getting some shitty neighbors that move in there without doing their time in one of the really fancy apartments this place has to offer."

"Tryin' ta upgrade?" Merle called.

Andrea made her way into the bedroom, flinging her dirty clothes at the pile of laundry that she'd have to load up to wash tomorrow at the laundry mat if she wanted to have something to wear to work.

"Oh yes!" She called back, heading into the bathroom and turning on the water so that it wouldn't freeze her nipples off when she finally got in. "I want to upgrade so damn bad, Merle. Going across the hall is damn near finding a mansion for sale."

She rolled her eyes in the mirror and smeared toothpaste on her toothbrush, working to get the taste out of her mouth. She hadn't eaten anything at work…in fact she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast…but still she felt like the smell from the restaurant even attacked her taste buds.

"Can't be fuckin' satisfied fer shit, can ya?" Merle called.

Andrea rinsed her toothbrush and swished water around her mouth, groaning to herself about Merle and his almost completely nonexistent standard of living.

"Merle, you're being an ass," she called. She pulled back the shower curtain and climbed in, immediately diving under the lukewarm water.

"I ain't tha damn princess 'round her bitchin' 'cause the place ain't good enough fer her. What'cha gon' be wantin' next?" Merle asked, charging into the bathroom.

"All kinds of shit," Andrea responded back. "I was thinking once we got us a real fucking fancy place to live we might go all out. Do things like stop clipping our damn cruddy ass toenails at the fancy eating table."

Merle ripped back the shower curtain a minute later and wrestled himself into the tub with her as though the shower were really built for two. Andrea ignored him, not opening her eyes as she fumbled around in search of the shampoo bottle.

Merle grabbed her under the chin and brought his lips to hers and she halfheartedly returned the kiss while filling her hand with shampoo behind his back. She was more than skilled at showering while Merle made attempts to distract her. She had news for him, though, she wasn't being distracted until he at least got his head out of his ass long enough to see that taking Carol's apartment when she left it was the only smart thing that they could do.

"Her extra bedroom's still got the diseased mattresses this building's so damn full of," Andrea said. Merle was busy lapping at her neck and she went about scrubbing at her hair, wondering how long it was going to take him to get a mouth full of lather. "We move Daryl's new mattress in there and bring the death trap across the hall and leave it here for the lucky new tenants that get the prize behind door number one," she said.

"Ya ain't gon' shut up, is ya?" Merle asked, moving his hand to her breasts. She tried to focus on rinsing out her hair, telling herself that if she gave in at all she was going to lose this battle and she was a lot better at holding out than he was, especially when it was this important to her.

"Nope," she responded. "Not until you agree to move your ass across the hall."

Merle sighed.

"Ya too damn hardheaded," Merle responded.

Andrea chuckled, biting back the moan that threatened to escape her lips when he nibbled at her nipple.

"You're a good one to talk," she said. "Now what is it?" She pushed him out the way and rubbed conditioner into her hair, turning around and purposefully putting her back to him while she went about lathering up the loofa to scrub off the smell that had sunk into her pores. "Hot water won't last all day, Merle…"

Merle sighed and wrapped his arms around her, heaving her back against him and roughly scrubbing his chin against her backbone, trying to scratch her with what stubble had come in since he shaved this morning.

"I don't give a fuck," he said finally. "If ya wanta spend a whole damn day a' ya life haulin' shit 'cross tha damn hall then knock ya fuckin' ass out, just don't ask me ta do it."

Andrea shoved him back and set about washing herself quickly, smiling to herself and glad that he couldn't see it because she had her back turned on him.

"Don't worry, Merle, the last thing I was going to do was ask you to put yourself out so much by helping me move shit," she responded. "You can bet it won't be all damn day either. We don't even own enough shit between the three of us to take a whole day to move."

"Now ya satisfied?" Merle asked.

"As hard as it may be for you to believe…yes," Andrea said. "I'll call the landlord in the morning and let him know we want it just as soon as she moves out."

"Then why don't'cha finish washin' ya dirty ass an' turn around here an' be a little less of a bitch ta me?" Merle asked. He kissed the back of her neck roughly biting at the skin there that he could rake between his teeth.

Andrea moaned a little then and quickly rinsed off, returning the loofa to it's spot on the shower knob. She turned then, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into her.

"If you weren't such a hard headed asshole sometimes, I could get away with being a whole lot nicer," she said.

He kissed her then, pushing her into the shower wall, his hands dipping down and running over her in the shower spray.

"Ya reckon?" He growled.

"Yep," she said. "Except I just don't think you'd like me as much then…"

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Daryl knew by the time that they'd finished looking at furniture on Sunday that he didn't give one fuck about furniture. He'd suspected it before, but he was certain of it now. They'd driven around to at least four different towns looking at stores and the day was shot. If he'd seen one bed, he'd seen twenty, and the same was true for couches and tables with chairs.

Carol, though, she'd acted like she was in some kind of damn wonderland. She'd even made them backtrack twice to places they'd already been so she could get one more look at something she'd seen there.

"Look at this bed, Daryl. Look at that one, Daryl. Don't you like this headboard? Isn't this pretty? What do you think about this couch? Did you like those chairs or the other ones better? Do you think you'd want to sit in these every day or would the other ones be more comfortable?" The questions had gone and on and on. Daryl thought they'd never finish. He was desperate toward the end to be doing anything and was grateful that she didn't seem to notice that he slipped out to smoke a cigarette at the last store, which was actually the second time they'd been there, while she was putting the "perfect" bed on hold with the owner to be picked up when it was time to move into her house.

As far as Daryl was concerned it didn't matter one damn bit. A bed was a bed, it was essentially unnecessary as long as you had a floor and you had mattresses. Besides the fact, Lincoln was always up and down in the damn bed despite his urging that the dog learn to sleep on the nice, luxury ass mattress thing that Michonne had given him to sleep on and his legs were pretty fucking short which meant one of them was always crawling over the other to pick him up and put him down. Not to mention Lincoln was beginning to put on weight and he was eventually going to be a pain in the ass to pick up. If the bed was on the floor, they wouldn't have to deal with that shit. It would be a hell of a lot easier to bring the bed to Lincoln than to keep bringing Lincoln to the bed.

Still, Carol was determined that she needed to look at all this shit and she needed to look at it more than once, so he'd bit his tongue and followed her around and around grunting at every one of her damn questions. Finally she seemed satisfied, though. Daryl had an itchy feeling, though, that it was going to be him and maybe Merle that had to bring the truck back to get the shit that she'd picked out when she finally got to move into this house she was so tickled about. Daryl didn't mind moving the shit for her so much from the store to the house, but he was sure Merle was going to find that as prime time to bitch about something.

On the way back to Sweet Junction, Daryl stopped at a barbecue place that Carol had been raving about and sat in the truck smoking a cigarette while she skipped inside, excited as a fucking lark, to pick up plates for them to take home for dinner. He was glad, at least, that he wouldn't have to wait on her to cook since his stomach was damn near eating itself. She didn't seem to notice that they'd missed lunch, but it surely hadn't crept by him.

When they got back to the apartment, Carol went in and put the Styrofoam boxes on the table. She opened the cabinets and started digging around.

"The hell ya doin'?" Daryl asked.

"I'm getting plates, Daryl, aren't you hungry? Your stomach growled the whole way home," Carol responded.

"Yeah I'm hungry," he said. "Just don't see what we need no damn plates for. We just eatin' barbecue." He couldn't really see what the problem with the Styrofoam containers and plastic forks was.

"We're going to eat out of plates like civilized people," Carol said with a giggle. "Take Lincoln for his walk before he goes all over the floor and when you get back your food will be waiting on you."

Daryl sighed.

He took the leash off the coat rack that Carol had hung by the door and Lincoln immediately began dancing around at his feet like it was the most exciting thing that could ever happen. He didn't understand why the dog thought walks were so damn great. It wasn't like they ever went anywhere new. They just circled around the same damn plots of grass and the same thing happened every single time they did it.

He finally got the leash hooked only by finally folling the overexcited hound dog onto his back where he couldn't keep the collar out of his reach. He let the dog back up and Lincoln regained his feet and went to stand with his nose pressed against the crack of the door. Carol was humming, not paying him any attention, and arranging food on plates, so he figured he should go and get back as quickly as possible.

"We'll be right back," he said.

"And then we'll eat," Carol said, smiling at him. Daryl nodded his head and opened the door, letting Lincoln run out first since it meant so damn much to him.

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"Did you like the bed I picked out?" Carol asked.

Daryl sighed, trying to ignore her for at least a little bit, and focused his attention more on her breasts which were currently in his face and far more fascinating than discussing the beds that they'd seen. He sucked at her nipples.

"Mmm hmmm," he moaned, hoping it was enough to satisfy her. "Got me an idea," he said.

"What's that?" She asked, tipping her head back a little when he bit down gently on her nipple. He had his back against the wall and she was sitting across his lap, facing him. He worked his hands down under her, grabbing her ass and dragging her closer to him, making sure she knew that he was already ready for this part of the conversation to be over whenever she felt it was an appropriate time to rid herself of the violet cotton panties that she was wearing.

"How 'bout we talk about this bed?" Daryl asked. "'Cause right now, it's my favorite."

Carol laughed and buried her face for a moment in the crook of his neck, biting down on the skin there and sucking. She was going to leave a mark and he knew it. She'd done it more than once and Merle had given him hell about having a hickey, even though he had seen Merle with his own share of the purple blotches.

"Ya keep doin' that an' I'ma suck a big ole damn Mickey Mouse, plain as day on ya neck," Daryl said.

Carol giggled into his skin.

"You are, are you?" She asked, using the throaty voice that she seemed to only produce whenever they were about to sleep together.

"Damn straight," Daryl said. Carol bit down and sucked him again, dipping her hips and grinding against him. He nearly came up from his position on the mattress. "Damn, woman!" He growled.

Carol responded by laughing a little and backing off of him. She climbed off his lap and took off her underwear, expertly tossing them at the laundry basket that she'd moved to the end of the bed, having learned that given the chance, Lincoln promptly ate holes in any and all underwear that landed on the floor. Daryl took the opportunity to rid himself of his own.

Carol leaned over him and kissed him, their tongues caught up in a battle for dominance for the moment. When she broke away, she leaned down, taking him into her mouth. Daryl leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, groaning a second at the feeling of her mouth wrapped around him.

Finally, though, he pulled himself together and reached down, catching her chin. She left her position then, looking at him questioningly.

"What are ya doin'?" He asked.

Carol blushed. In fact, she blushed redder than Daryl had ever seen her blush before. She sat there looking at him for a moment, almost scarlet.

"I was…" she stuttered. "Well, I was trying…" She looked almost like she might cry trying to explain herself and Daryl smiled, pulling her face up to him and kissing her.

"I mean I know what ya was doin', woman, but I don't want'cha doin' it," Daryl said when he broke away from the kiss. Carol looked at him, her brows wrinkling.

"I just wanted to do it for you," Carol said.

Daryl kissed her again, softly, and then kissed her cheeks softly. He shook his head.

"I don't want'cha doin' it, OK? Not right now," he said.

Carol nodded, but she looked uncertain and he didn't like that look on her face. She looked like she'd been scolded and he hadn't meant to scold her. He wasn't sure what it was, but he just didn't like the idea so much of her doing that or maybe it was that he wondered if she felt like she _had_ to do it.

"I'd rather ya come back over here an' be real nice ta me," Daryl said.

Carol nodded her head again, half smiling, but Daryl felt bad now. Whether he wanted her to do it or not he wished he'd just let her finish so she wouldn't look right now like she was trying not to cry. She could take shit so damn personal sometimes, even when he didn't mean nothing by it and once she got her feelings hurt or she got uptight about something, then she was jumpy and tense the whole rest of the night.

Carol moved back to his lap and eased herself down on him and he hissed with the feeling of it, with the feeling of her. This was the way that he liked most to be connected with her. Right there in front of him where he could look at her eyes, but now she wasn't looking at him anyway. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked past him, at the wall.

Daryl sighed, hoping that this didn't wreck the whole evening. He fought his urge to buck into her and caught her face again, turning it so that she was looking straight at him despite the fact that she kept rolling her eyes away from him in response.

"Hey!" He said. "Look at me. Ya ain't done a damn thing wrong so stop makin' that face. I just would rather we do this, OK? I ain't mad at'cha," he said.

Carol nodded again, but didn't say anything and Daryl knew well enough that she'd already gone over all the levels in her mind and gone straight to being upset. If she spoke now, she'd cry, so she wasn't going to speak. He wondered what he should do, but she was sitting on him and he was already buried inside of her and frankly about to die. If he tried to call anything off now he'd just suffer and she'd be more upset, probably misinterpreting him.

"Ready?" He asked, finally. He didn't pay much attention to her nod. She put her hands back on his shoulders and rested her forehead against one of them.

She moved with him, but she never came and he knew better than to even try. It was just prolonging it for her since at the moment she just seemed to be going through the motions. Daryl had already figured out that they were fundamentally different. The friction alone of an encounter could bring him over the edge, even if his mood was sour, but if she wasn't in the right mood, then it was next to impossible to ever get more than a little response out of her from just performing actions that he knew she liked.

When Daryl finally came, he heaved her over, spilling her onto her back on the bed and he hovered over her, getting his breath. She wasn't trying not to cry now and he felt his chest clench.

"Really?" He asked. "Ya really cryin' 'cause I asked ya not ta do that?" She had her head turned toward the wall and he tried to turn her face but she fought against him. He almost wanted to cry right along with her and he wasn't entirely positive why she was crying. "Carol," he said, seeing he wasn't getting a response out of her. "I told ya that ya didn't have ta suck on my dick, I didn't tell ya that I was gon' do somethin' terrible to ya. What the hell ya cryin' about? Hell, if it means that much to ya then ya more than welcome ta do it, I just would rather see ya face."

Carol turned her head then and looked at him, tears running down the sides of her face and he reached down and wiped at them. He hated the whimpering noise she made when she was trying not to cry and being unsuccessful at it.

"Ya wanna tell me why ya cryin' now?" Daryl asked, seeing that she was looking at him. She seemed to be calming down a little. She shook her head and wiped at her face. Daryl shook his head in response. Sometimes he got to know why she got upset, other times he didn't. He tried not to push too much either way. He figured a lot of the time it had to with one thing or another with Ed and he didn't like to root around in that any more than he had to. He knew there were things that reminded him of not so great times in his life and he'd rather keep them to himself, so he wasn't going to go picking at Carol's scabs.

When she finally calmed down, Daryl lie down beside her, ignoring the fact that he could see the top of Lincoln's head over the side of the mattress. Lincoln might think he needed to be involved, but he didn't need to be up there yet. Carol leaned into him after a few minutes and threaded one of her legs between his, kissing him softly. She was still sobbing slightly from time to time.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Daryl squeezed her to him.

"Ya ain't the one s'posed ta be sorry," he said.

"I just wanted to do it for you," she said. "Just…I don't know…something for you. I wanted you to like it."

He thought she might start crying again, so he pulled her into him and kissed her, making it the longest, laziest kiss that he could stand, hoping to distract her. When he finally broke the kiss with her, she didn't look like she was on the verge of tears anymore, so he figured that it might have worked.

"I woulda liked it," he said. "Ain't got nothin' ta do with that, Carol. It's just that if we was goin' ta do somethin' then I just rather we do somethin' that we both like. I mean it, though, if it's somethin' that's important to ya, I ain't gonna say another damn thing about it when ya decide ya wanna do it."

Carol didn't respond, but she lie down beside him and burrowed into him. He wrapped his arm around, hugging her to him and kissing her forehead. She was quiet for a bit and he wondered if she'd drifted off to sleep. He didn't move though, he just lie there, holding her against him.

Finally, though, Daryl started looking around the room, entertaining himself since he wasn't ready to sleep, and he couldn't help but laugh at Lincoln who was desperately trying to get someone's attention by hopping up and down the bed from one end to the other. As a result, all Daryl could see was the top of his head popping up and down as he moved along like some kind of whack a mole. Daryl chuckled.

"What's funny?" Carol asked. Daryl hadn't realized she was awake. He pulled away from her then and she looked much calmer, and almost like she'd at least been dozing off a little.

"Roll over an' have yaself a look at Lincoln," he said. "Then ya gonna see what's funny."

Carol rolled a little and looked at the only visual evidence of the dog's desperate dance to try to get on the bed that he would never be able to jump on.

"Awww!" She cried. "Daryl, help him! That's so sad and you're laughing at him!" She scolded, though he didn't miss the little snort of a laugh she gave at the end of it. He sighed and crawled over her, getting out of the bed and lifting the dog up to the mattress. Lincoln bounded up the bed and went directly to wiggle against Carol's chest and try to lick her face. He acted very excited with himself like he'd just magically made it to the bed as a result of all his efforts from the floor.

Daryl chuckled again, crawling back onto the bed and lying on the other side of Lincoln who was settling down a little with Carol's suggestions to him, tugging a little at the blanket with his teeth despite the fact she was scolding him not to chew.

"That dog's the ultimate cockblock," Daryl said. "He gets right on up here in between us like that's where the hell he belongs."

"Where does he belong, then?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled and raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well he _belongs_ on the floor, but since I done lost that battle, I reckon he belongs at the foot a' the damn bed…at least until we done foolin' around," Daryl said.

"We weren't done?" Carol asked.

"I was kinda hopin' we might fool around when ya was interested in it, ya know instead a' when ya was tryin' not ta bawl all over me. Kinda hurts a man's ego when his woman cries the whole time they havin' sex," Daryl said.

Carol snickered at him.

"OK," she said, "I'm sorry and I'll give you that. How about we just push him out of the way then and show him that sometimes he's not allowed to be in between us?"

Daryl grinned and slid the dog over, leaning over Carol again and kissing her.

"Fine," he said, kissing her neck. "First damn time that dog sticks his nose in my ass, though, he's goin' on the damn floor 'til we done."

Carol laughed.

"Sounds fair enough to me," she said.


	51. Chapter 51

"But why are there so many sandwiches?" Tyreese asked, scooping four of the tiny little squares off the top of one of the platters and holding three of them in his palm while he ate one. Michonne rolled her eyes in his direction and continued cutting the crusts off the sandwiches she had lined up across the counter.

He chuckled at her facial expression.

"I'm not criticizing," he said, "but you're going to have what? A dozen? Maybe two dozen women here? Michonne you've got enough food here to feed the Marine Corps and you know those women aren't going to eat all of this. I tell you exactly what's going to happen. You're going to put all this food out and everyone's going to sit around looking at it and talking about their diets. You do the same thing. I saw at that dinner we went to last week when you spent all evening hardly touching your food and acting like you weren't going to eat half a box of Cocoa Puffs hanging over the kitchen sink when we got home."

Michonne looked at him again, this time chopping the sandwiches into fourths with a little more pressure behind her knife so that it would make a warning knock against the counter every time it made an impact. Tyreese chuckled again.

"Do you have something you'd like to say about my eating habits?" Michonne asked.

"Oh no, no, no…" Tyreese said. "I know a lot better than to skip down that little path with any woman, least of all you. "What I'm saying is that I think there's more than enough food here. We're going to be eating sandwiches out of Ziploc bags for a week."

"I want it to be nice," Michonne said. "That's all. I don't want anyone complaining about anything, and part of that is making sure that they can't say they didn't have anything to eat at the party."

"Michonne, it's going to be nice. You've made sure of that. You've got enough drinks to drown the town and there's every kind of finger food that any person could ever want to eat. I'm going to have to pass out doggie bags at the door if we don't want to eat ourselves into comas after everyone leaves," Tyreese said.

Michonne sighed and scooped the sandwich squares off the counter arranging part of them on each of the already overflowing platters. Tyreese watched her as she tried to figure out how to arrange the sandwiches, probably to make it more "presentable" to the women that wouldn't eat them anyway. He shook his head a little.

"Why don't you go and sit down? Everything is ready. The living room is arranged. The food is ready. I'll even bring it into the living room and set it up for you. Just go and sit down until the gaggle of hens gets here," Tyreese said.

Michonne sighed and he crossed the kitchen, pulling her against him and kissing her forehead. He wanted to laugh at how exasperated she looked over this tiny little thing that was going to be just as wonderful as any stupid little party like this ever was.

"I just want it to be perfect," she said.

Tyreese chuckled and tipped her head up, kissing her on the lips, his hands running up and down her back.

"It's going to be perfect. The food is amazing, the drinks offer anything that anyone could want, the seating is well planned, your dress is sexy as hell…this is going to be the best damn housewarming party that any woman in this town ever even dreamed of throwing," Tyreese said.

Michonne laughed at him then.

"You like the dress, huh?" She asked.

"I do. The dress is the main reason that I'm willing to stay here and listen to you ladies cluck while I spend my day off serving drinks to you. I'm going to spend the whole time looking at you in this dress and thinking about how damn happy I'm going to be when everyone wanders on out of her," Tyreese responded.

"You do realize Dean is bringing the girls back and they'll be back here probably about the time everyone clears out, don't you?" Michonne asked.

"I do…I do realize that," Tyreese said, squeezing her to him. "But I also realize that we have finger sandwiches that Anjelica is going to love and a brand new Mickey Mouse movie that they haven't seen yet, and if all else fails, I realize that I have a toothbrush over her and really no reason to go home before work tomorrow..."

"So you thought you were spending the night?" Michonne asked.

Tyreese pushed her away a little, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Now you didn't think you were going to taunt me with this dress all day long while I served your little lunch party and then just send me away emptyhanded, did you?" He asked.

"Of course not," Michonne said, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him back against her. "I would have sent you a baggie of sandwiches."

He laughed.

"You really have done a great job with it," Tyreese said, "and I know that Carol's super excited. It was really nice of you to do this for her."

Michonne pulled away, busying herself with moving platters of food into the living room. Tyreese took up one of the platters and followed her.

"It's just that Carol doesn't have a lot of friends around here," Michonne said. "Ed made sure of that. And she doesn't really have family either. I don't think she's ever had any kind of party like this before and I want it to be nice for her and I want her to get some nice things for her house, and she's not going to accept it if I just out and give her things, so I thought throwing her the party was something that I could do."

Tyreese knew it all. He'd heard the explanation about a dozen different times while Michonne was planning the party. First it had been to justify throwing the party in the first place. Then it had been to justify the fact that many of the women that were invited were, in fact, Michonne's friends and acquaintances, but not really all that close to Carol, and now it was being repeated in some final effort to justify everything involved.

"I think you think I'm criticizing or something," Tyreese said, "and I'm really not. I understand why you're doing it and I genuinely believe that it's a very nice thing to do. Carol's going to be thrilled."

Michonne put one of the platters down and Tyreese put his beside it.

"Now, would you please just relax until they get here?" Tyreese asked, putting his hands on Michonne's shoulders and squeezing.

"What about the other food?" She asked.

Tyreese shook his head.

"I'm serving, aren't I?" He asked. "I'll bring more out when it looks like we need it. End of discussion. Sit on the couch before I go and get something to tie you there."

Michonne laughed and nodded at him, finally looking like she might take at least a short break before the women started filing through the house.

"I haven't brought the gifts in yet," she said.

"Guest room?" He asked. She nodded.

"Fine," Tyreese responded. "I'll bring those in too, just sit down."

"There are four, all of them are piled up in the corner," Michonne said.

"Four?" Tyreese asked.

Michonne went to the couch and sat down, chewing on one of the carrot sticks from the vegetable tray. She shrugged a little.

"One from me, one from you, one from the girls, and one in case someone didn't bring a gift," she said.

Tyreese tried not to laugh.

"Fine, I'll get them," he said. "Just stay put before you come up with anything else that needs to be done. We don't have time to carve ice sculptures or anything."

"Is the punch ready?" Michonne asked suddenly, as though she'd just remembered the most important detail ever.

"In the fridge, chilling. You get yours first, and I may or may not be spiking your glass with a shot of "please calm down"," Tyreese called as he headed down the hall to get the gifts that he hadn't even seen before they were wrapped. "I can't wait to see what I got Carol," he called out.

"You picked it out," Michonne called back.

Tyreese came back down the hall then with the first of the loads. There may have only been four boxes, but one of them was heavy enough it needed to be moved on its own.

"That's yours," Michonne said as he heaved it down in the corner.

"What did I pick out?" He asked.

"The stair things for Lincoln. Remember? We saw them that day and you said it would be a good idea for him since he's so short? The step things so he could get up and down on the furniture?" Michonne said.

Tyreese shrugged. He vaguely remembered something of the sort taking place on one of their outings.

"Is Carol going to like them?" He asked.

"Carol's going to love them," Michonne said. "You don't know it but you picked out the ones that match the wood in the house."

"Then I have good taste," Tyreese said, turning around and starting back down the hall.

"You have very good taste," Michonne called after him.

"Especially in women," he retorted, collecting up two of the lighter boxes and returning to the living room with them.

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Carol didn't know half of the women there except for by name. A lot of them weren't women that she'd ever had much to do with, even in school. They were married to a lot of the well to do men in Sweet Junction, and most probably knew Michonne more through her parents than through any real affection for the woman. It was especially evident since they sat together and hardly spoke to Carol.

It was a little strange to see so many people at her "housewarming" party that barely seemed to know her, yet they knew a lot about the situation with Ed. She knew that it was town gossip, but she was a little embarrassed to think that they'd probably jumped at the well-meant invitations from Michonne just to gawk at the town's resident battered housewife and sit around talking to each other so they'd have more to discuss at the Country Club.

Still, Carol knew that the entire thing had been something Michonne had worked hard to put together and she couldn't blame her for the guest list. It wasn't like Carol had a lot of friends. Andrea had come, Jacqui, and Donna from Lula's, but other than that there really wasn't anyone that she had in her life that would come to something like that. Ed had kept her from keeping old friends and from making new ones. Michonne had wanted her to have a nice party, and she was appreciative of that. So she grinned, answered their questions as pleasantly as possible, thanked them for their gifts, and spent the social part of the party talking to the few women who wanted to talk to her and watching as the other women talked to each other and Michonne worked to make sure that everything came off as the grand event that she probably saw it as in her head.

The women brought nice gifts, nicer than the things that Carol would have bought for herself, but she was really just as thankful for the simple things that her friends had brought her. She knew that they couldn't afford nice gifts, and what they gave was what they could afford to give, and it was given with sincerity instead of steeped in curiosity over what had become of the woman that the town talked about because she was known for wearing her shades inside the A and P.

The longer the party went on, and the more that here and there someone leaned around to ask about the situation with Ed, if Carol had any contact with him, when was the last time she'd seen him, if it was true that he had attacked her at the bar, and other questions like that, the more that Carol was finding it difficult to keep the smile plastered on her face.

Michonne hadn't seemed to overhear any of the questions, probably too preoccupied with making sure that everyone had everything they wanted and that there weren't too many lulls in the conversation. Carol wanted her to know how thankful she was that she'd thought of doing this, but she really hoped that there was never any occasion for anything like this to happen again. She hated being trapped around people like this.

She thought that Andrea, at least, understood. The women hadn't spoken to her at all, and they cast more than one glance in her direction before turning to whisper more at each other. Andrea handled it with dignity, though, and remained beside Carol wearing pretty much the same plastic Barbie doll smile that Carol was trying to pull off.

Finally the party began to draw to a close. One or two women took their leave first with some obligation or another, and Carol allowed only the slightest of sighs to escape her lips at the thought that they'd all be filing out before long. She was right, and once the ice had been broken, they left almost in a wave of snobbish goodbyes and false well wishes.

Carol's actual friends were the last to leave, with Andrea lingering behind since she'd actually ridden with Carol. They waited until everyone was gone and then offered to help Michonne clean up.

"I've got it," Michonne said. "Really, it's not that big of a deal.

Carol ignored her protest and least started putting her dining room chairs back in the dining room. Andrea followed suit, picking up the still loaded platters of food and carrying them into the kitchen.

"You don't have to clean up," Michonne protested again.

"Michonne," Carol said. "It was a beautiful party and I appreciate it so much. The least I can do is not leave you with this mess to clean up."

"Carol you're not supposed to clean up after your own party," Michonne said with a sigh. "And it wasn't a beautiful party at all. It was a terrible party. The only way it could have been worse is if I'd tied you to a tree in the back yard and let people hit you with sticks under the false assumption that candy was going to come out of you eventually."

Carol chuckled, but she felt bad seeing the expression on Michonne's face. The party had not gone at all like her friend had envisioned it.

"It's OK, Michonne," Carol said, pulling Michonne to her in a hug. "I know you meant well and that's all that matters. Those women weren't my friends and you did the best you could to give me a great party. I'm thankful for that."

Michonne sighed and carried one of the trays of sandwiches into the kitchen. Tyreese was busying himself with carrying all of the presents to the guest room where Carol was going to be storing them for the week until she finally moved into her house.

"I didn't realize it would be necessary to put it on the invitation that the women shouldn't talk about Ed the entire time they were at your house warming party," Michonne said. "I'm so sorry, Carol. I didn't mean for that to happen."

Carol smiled at her.

"I know you didn't, and it's OK. They didn't have anything else to talk about and let's face it, Ed is the most exciting thing about me if you ask just about anyone in this town," Carol said.

"Well right now Daryl's the most exciting thing," Andrea offered. "Remember, everyone around here loves a good possible scandal almost as much as a good confirmed scandal."

"This was a mess!" Michonne declared. "Jesus! What was I thinking? They were all over you the whole time and I invited them here to do it!"

"Michonne, seriously, it's OK," Carol said. "We'll just laugh about it and say I got their money and they got yesterday's gossip. It's not your fault that people don't know how to act."

"That's right," Andrea added. "You got some really nice gifts, so the jokes on them. They could have talked about both of us for free."

Michonne smiled a little, but Carol suddenly realized that for as miserable as she'd thought she'd been, and for as miserable as she imagined Andrea might be, it was Michonne whose feelings had really been hurt. She looked like she felt worse about this than she had about anything before.

Tyreese came into the kitchen where Carol and Andrea were standing while Michonne shoved sandwich squares into bags and looked like she was trying not to cry. She turned around after a second and handed each of them a sack of sandwiches.

"Here," she said. "You might as well take these home and have dinner on me to go with inviting you to spend the day being gawked at and humiliated."

Carol looked at Andrea and Andrea looked back at her. Carol glanced at Tyreese who was apparently trying very hard to ask a question without using his actual voice. She realized, though, that as a man he'd probably paid very little attention to the overall cattiness of the party goers and had probably thought the party was a huge success.

"Michonne," Carol said, "I promise, it's not that big of a deal. I'm really happy with the party and I really do appreciate you throwing it."

Carol elbowed Andrea who had taken on the facial expression of some kind of fish because she kept opening her mouth like she wanted to say something and then closing it, apparently because she wasn't sure what to say.

"It really was nice, Michonne," Andrea offered. "It was nice of you to throw the party and do all of this. It was nice."

Michonne chuckled a little and turned around, sealing up another baggie of sandwiches and tossing it at the counter.

"And here you two are, staying after the party, trying to make me feel better about something where both of you were treated like bastards at a family reunion," Michonne said.

Carol smiled at her and stepped in, hugging her again. Carol waved at Andrea and Andrea smiled.

"Well, OK…" she said, hugging both of them.

"Some days there are just too many women in your life," Tyreese said suddenly.

Carol broke up the hug, laughing a little at him.

"Did you want a hug too?" She asked.

Tyreese chuckled.

"I'm good, I'll get mine later," he said. "Is there something I should know about, though, because I thought everything went well?"

Carol shook her head.

"It's just small town garbage," Carol said.

Michonne nodded.

"You know how you said this was such a cute place because it's so much like a movie?" Michonne said.

Tyreese nodded.

"Yeah, I did say that," he said.

"Well, sometimes there are characters that you just want to see hit by busses in movies, and it just so happens that a lot of them were here today," Michonne said.

Tyreese nodded his head a little.

"OK," he said. "I get that."

"Women are catty as hell," Andrea said.

Tyreese chuckled.

"I could have told you that shit was going to happen. Anytime you get that many women together in one room there's bound to be someone misbehaving," Tyreese said.

"That's putting it mildly," Michonne scoffed. She sighed.

"Listen," Carol said. "Just put it out of your mind. It was the best that you could do. Now it's over. No big deal. And…you get to help me get the house put together in a week!" She grinned.

Michonne smiled then.

"I'm going to be excited to help you get the house put together," Michonne said. "You can leave all that stuff here and Tyreese and I can help you move it once you're ready."

"Sounds great," Carol said.

"Michonne said you've got some furniture to move in too," Tyreese said. "I'd be more than happy to help you out if you need a hand getting it moved."

Carol thanked him.

"I know Daryl's going to pick it up," Carol said, "but I'm sure he could use the hand. We don't know yet if Merle is going to help."

"Merle can be an ass," Andrea said, flashing a smile and using her best mom voice. Carol couldn't help but laugh at it.

Tyreese chuckled as well.

"I see Merle nearly everyday," he said. "I can only believe you're an amazing woman for living with him. And I'd be more than happy to help Daryl or both of them if they need it. Just let me know."

Carol thanked him again and after a few minutes she thanked Michonne again and left the house with Andrea.

"Is it bad that I feel sorry for her?" Carol asked, crawling into Andrea's car.

"No," Andrea said. "I think it's been a long time since Michonne really got a good view at how people act around here. She caught a bit of it after Dean, but when you're one of the only lawyers in town people tend to overlook your downfalls and then they put on a different face for you. Today was probably harder on her than it was on us. I'm used to it, at least."

Carol sighed.

"Yeah, I'm pretty used to it too. It was nice of her to throw the party though," Carol said.

"She meant well," Andrea said. She pulled the car out of park and backed out of Michonne's driveway so they could head back to the apartments. "She's a sweetheart, even if her plans don't always come out the way she saw them happening."

"Does it ever really work out for any of us?" Carol asked. Andrea chuckled.

"I don't know about you," Andrea said, "but I've told you before. I'm living the dream."

Carol chuckled and rolled down the window letting a little air into the car.

"You got some nice things, though," Andrea said.

"That's true," Carol responded. "A lot of it I would never have spent that kind of money on."

"You got a really nice coffee maker," Andrea said, glancing at Carol. Carol nodded. "Can I have your old one?" Andrea asked.

"Sure," Carol said with a shrug. "I thought you had one, though."

"I did," Andrea said. "But about two days ago Merle and Daryl were roughhousing in the kitchen over some stupid shit and the glass thing got broken. I was just going to go down to the salvage shop and see if I can find a new glass pot, but now I can throw the whole damn thing out and start fresh."

Carol laughed.

"It sounds like you have kids," she said.

"It feels like I have kids," Andrea said. "You're taking one of them with you when you go, though, right? I mean we're at least sharing custody?"

Carol shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean I don't want to push it on him, but I'm going to ask him to spend the first night with me there and I guess we'll see where it goes from there," Carol said.

"I've already got him a new toothbrush and a small bag of clean clothes packed that I'm going to suggest that he leave over there," Andrea said. "You know, just in case he wants to stay the night."

Carol laughed.

"Are you serious?" Carol asked.

Andrea nodded.

"Playing him like a violin…" She said. "Daryl knows what he wants, Carol, whether you believe me or not. The only problem is that he doesn't actually know he wants it until he sees it. You've just got to make it easy and stress free for him to see it, and he'll fall right into it."

"Why do I feel like you're as interested in my relationship as I am?" Carol asked.

Andrea smiled.

"Because I am. Your relationship is one that actually has a chance of being something decent. Mine is more like that accident on the highway that you can't look away from. It's more fun to set up your little wonderland than to take pictures of the crime scene," Andrea said.

Carol laughed and sighed.

"I appreciate the help," she said. "I really do. Maybe eventually we'll figure out how to make yours less like a crime scene."

"I already know how," Andrea said. "Unfortunately it involves a very nasty head injury for Merle and some form of lifelong amnesia."


	52. Chapter 52

**AN: So it's late here. That's what, four updates today? **

**I'm going to be a bad girl tomorrow and I'm going to be spending most of the day, probably, updating this fic because I'm still in my Sweet Junction mood. Sorry about that…LOL**

**I hope you enjoy! **

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Daryl, Merle, and Tyreese were spending the day together with three trucks between them and the goal to visit three different towns to load three different pieces of furniture up. The only saving grace, really, was that Tyreese happened to have a nice utility trailer that he could pull behind his truck or no amount of magic and want to would have sufficed to get the dining room table and chairs that Carol had picked out back to her new house.

At first it had been a little odd for the three of them owing to their different personality types. Daryl and Tyreese were both eager to perform the actions and to do them as quickly as possible, but Merle, being Merle, wasn't thrilled with the idea and seemed to see it as some sort of conspiracy that the women had cooked up to prove that all three men were whipped in some manner. Daryl also assumed that it was a little odd for Merle to have to spend the day loading furniture with his boss.

The three different trucks, at least, meant that there was little interaction between the three men other than the actual time spent loading the items, and Daryl was thankful for that. As they left their final pick up location and drove in a line toward the house that was awaiting them, he thought that it was better that he didn't have to deal with Merle or any brotherly advice Merle might have for just such an occasion.

They'd all been at the little empty house this morning. Everyone had wandered around inside it, looking at it, praising it, and Carol had been so excited that it had almost been contagious. She acted like every single grain in every piece of wood was the most exciting thing ever. Daryl had been happy just to see her like that. After they'd spent a little time looking around, though, it was time to get to work. Tyreese had taken an extra key and they'd been sent off to get the furniture that Carol had been paying on since they picked it out some time back. The women were going to Carol's apartment to get everything all packed up there. At some point it would all come together.

The whole idea of Carol moving, though, was beginning to create a gnawing in Daryl's stomach that he couldn't begin to explain, not even if he'd tried to and he certainly wasn't going to try to explain it to anyone. Carol was so excited about it all. The house was a dream of hers, something very important to her, and Daryl wanted her to have it and to be happy, but he couldn't help but wonder if things were really going to change the way that Merle seemed to anticipate they would.

Carol hadn't made much of a big deal about the move. He noticed that when she talked about moving she used "we" and "us" a good bit. Tomorrow the furniture store was delivering the mattress for her bed, a mattress that she insisted Daryl go with her to pick out to make sure that he thought it was right for "them." It seemed, at least on the surface, that Carol intended for him to be spending a good deal of time with her at the house.

He worried, though, if once she got there, once she got settled in around whatever new neighbors might come, she might change like Merle suggested. She might begin to fit into the background around her. Daryl wasn't sure if he could fit there. Even the house made him a little uncomfortable.

The little house was so _perfect_. Right now it was brand new and nothing about it seemed less than pristine. He'd hardly even been in a place that clean and fresh before, less likely thought about spending the night in one before. It was an entirely different environment from the lifelong chain of run down trailers and shitty apartments that he'd found himself living in, and though he thought that a change like that would be a welcomed one, it was still a big change and it was a little troubling.

Daryl worried that no matter how much he might try, he might not fit in the house and he certainly wouldn't fit with other people who lived in the other little houses. The more he worried about it, the more he turned over and over in his mind what Merle had said. One thing at a time would change until she was tired of him and then it would be Daryl himself who got changed out for something new and better.

He tried to push it out of his mind as he drove back to unload the furniture. He tried to tell himself that Merle was just being Merle and that he was only reacting this way because change had a tendency to make him nervous, but he couldn't shake the thought entirely that Merle might be right.

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Carol hadn't expected to feel the way she felt at all. She had been super excited since she woke up, almost sailing through the day on a high. The men had brought the furniture and helped her arrange it, not that there was really much to be done with essentially three pieces of furniture in the whole house.

Michonne and Andrea had helped her pack the apartment and take everything to the house, and Michonne had taken her to buy a dresser and nightstand to go in the bedroom so she'd at least have some places to put a few things. They'd brought over everything that she'd gotten from the party that Michonne threw and they'd unpacked all of that as well.

The next day the movers would bring the new mattress that she'd bought and she would move into her house. It would be her first night in her little house…the first step toward making it a home…but that meant tonight was her last night in the little apartment. The place was empty of her things, nothing of hers remained except what was left for her to sleep in and shower in the morning, and the final things she'd take over for Lincoln when she went to the house the next day.

The little apartment would become Andrea and Merle's apartment. They were moving across the hall as soon as she, and hopefully Daryl though he didn't seem completely sure about things, were settled into the house. By tomorrow night everyone would be relocated. She knew she should be excited about everything that was happening, but oddly enough she felt a little sad.

There was something going on with Daryl too, something that she wasn't sure about. He had helped move things when asked all day, but he seemed somewhat distant. She'd asked him a time or two if he was OK or if he wanted to talk about anything, but he'd insisted that he was fine, and that there was nothing on his mind.

"Daryl," Carol said while they were lying in bed. "What do you think of the house?"

"I like it," Daryl said. There was no conviction in his voice, and Carol wasn't sure if it had something to do with the house or if it was simply because she'd asked him what he thought about a billion different things and he'd adopted that as his go to answer.

"Tonight's my last night here," Carol said.

"Sure is," Daryl said.

Carol wondered if she should tell Daryl that she was feeling sad, even though she couldn't explain it. The little apartment wasn't anything special, but it had been sort of special to her. It wasn't her house, but it had been the very first place that she'd been, all grown up and without Ed. It was the place where she lived while she got jobs and got on her feet. It was the place where she'd first been with Daryl, and the place that she'd first met Lincoln.

She knew that she was just being strangely sentimental, and that tomorrow Andrea and Merle would be moving in so it wasn't like she'd never come here again, but she could feel a chapter in her life closing…and as strange as it was to think it, it had been an important chapter, and for the most part, it had been a good chapter.

"Daryl," Carol said, getting his attention again, though she was sure that he was probably tired and wished she'd go to sleep.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked.

"Do you think…" she started. "I mean we don't have to if you don't want to, but do you maybe want to…"

She realized that she didn't know how to ask the question that she wanted to ask. She couldn't bring herself to ask it. She wanted to ask Daryl to have sex with her. Oddly enough it was that one last time thought that came to her mind. Except she didn't want to ask him to have sex with her. She wanted to ask him to make love to her, but she realized that love was something they hadn't discussed. It was something that she wondered if she felt, but she never let herself imagine if it was something that Daryl felt.

"Do I wanna what?" Daryl asked, finally, sucking her back into the reality of the moment.

"Nothing," Carol said.

"What?" Daryl asked.

Carol realized she just couldn't say it. She couldn't risk that it was too much for him at the moment and she couldn't risk running him out of her life right now. Not with all that she already felt that she was trying to understand at the moment. She couldn't scare him off with the words.

Carol rolled over, leaning over Daryl. She kissed him and returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down against him. When she broke away, she moved, kissing his collarbone, licking it, and then she trailed down, nipping at his chest and licking his nipples. Daryl shuddered and she snickered at him. She heard his breathing speed up a little and he swallowed loud enough for her to hear it in the dark.

"That's what'cha wanted ta do?" He asked.

Carol didn't respond verbally. She went to the other side, nipping at his other nipple a little and slipping her hand down into the waistband of the worn boxers he was wearing, noticing that he was well on his way to being interested in what she was proposing. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him for a moment to bring him to full attention.

Daryl reached down, running his hand down her arm and pulling her hand out of his shorts. Then he put his hand under her chin and leaned up a little, bringing his mouth to hers and reconnecting them in a kiss. He broke away long enough to take off his boxers and she pulled the t shirt she was wearing over her head and slipped out her panties, piling her clothes with his at the top of the bed so they could find them later before Lincoln decided to make a meal of anything there.

"I ain't never gonna tell ya no," Daryl said. He slipped one of his arms under her and she felt it pressing against her stomach as he pulled her on top of him. She helped him out with the gesture and raised herself up, straddling him and sliding down on top of him. His breath caught for a second and she leaned in, kissing him as she worked her hips. His hands went directly to her waist, attempting to help her in setting a rhythm that they both enjoyed and she broke the kiss, gasping and moaning.

Daryl leaned up a little, searching out her breast and sucking on her nipple, careful to maintain the rhythm they'd set as best he could. Carol couldn't stand the feeling any longer, and she ground into him, as hard as she could. He grunted at her and responded by thrusting up with the same force that she'd introduced. She gasped, a growl escaping her own throat. She responded, setting a new rhythm, one that was much more satisfying for her current mood.

When they finally came, it was almost at exactly the same time and Daryl wrapped his arms around her, dragging her down against him as he finished. She stayed there, panting, not minding being held tight to his body.

When they'd finally broken apart, Carol didn't offer to move off of him. She put her head on his chest, listening to his heart pounding.

"Daryl," she said.

"Gotta gimme a few minutes," Daryl said with a chuckle.

"No," she said, "isn't that."

She leaned up a little but it was too dark to see him well.

"What then?" He asked.

"You're spending the night with me tomorrow night, aren't you?" She asked.

Daryl sighed and pulled at her a little so she inched forward a bit, still not offering to slide off of him. He leaned up and kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth. She rubbed hers against his, holding the kiss for longer than usual. When Daryl pulled away, his head fell back on the pillow.

"If ya want me ta stay with ya, I reckon I can stay with ya," Daryl said.

Carol smiled, but she knew that he couldn't see it. She inched down a bit and rested her head on his chest again, feeling his chin against the top of her head.

"I want you to stay with me," she said.

Daryl wrapped his arms around her again, this time not squeezing so much as simply holding her there.

"Ya gonna sleep right where ya is?" He asked.

Carol turned her head enough to kiss his chest and then she rested back the way she'd been.

"I was thinking about it," she said. "Am I hurting you?"

"Nah," he said. "Ya ain't botherin' me none."

Carol sighed and closed her eyes, accepting that they probably needed to sleep. There were things that had to be done the next day. She had to get settled into the house…get Lincoln settled in…and it wouldn't be very nice of her not to offer to help Andrea move their stuff across the hall.

As she drifted off to sleep, she was thankful that Daryl was letting her sleep there on top of him, and she was thankful that he'd agreed to spend the night with her at the new house. She hoped that he would like it, and that he would want to stay there, but at least he'd promised her a night if nothing else.

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The next day was an absolute flurry of activity. Carol and Daryl got up and hit the ground running. Carol made them instant coffee with what was left in the apartment and while she showered Daryl took Lincoln for his morning constitutional around the apartment building.

When he got back inside, and Carol was dressed, Daryl helped her gather up everything that was left and would need to go to the new house. They both carried the last of the things down to her truck and then Daryl brought Lincoln and loaded him into the cab.

Carol drove the truck to the house with Lincoln riding shotgun. Daryl followed behind her in his truck to help her unload before he went about doing everything that he needed to accomplish during the day. Hershel had given him two days off of work to get it all done, and he didn't want to have to ask the old man for more time because he hadn't gotten everything finished.

When they got out at the house, Carol couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement again. This was it. She was officially moving into her home. Daryl put Lincoln in the little fenced in yard to give the dog a chance to get to know his new stomping grounds while they carried in the last of the things from the apartment.

Carol looked around the house, her few belongings now in place, and couldn't even wrap her mind around the fact that it was all hers. It was her home, and it was just as wonderful as she'd imagined. She walked, room to room, as she'd done at least a dozen times the day before, simply taking it all in. Daryl stood somewhat awkwardly in the kitchen until finally she'd rushed at him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a kiss. She knew that he wasn't as excited about it as she was. It was her dream and her home, but she hoped that he would grow excited about it as they settled in.

"The furniture store should be sending the mattress any time," Carol said, hugging Daryl. "I need to be here when they come, but I'm going over after that to help Andrea."

"I told her that I'd move that old mattress out'cha apartment an' move my new one in there," Daryl said. "I reckon I oughta go help do that."

Carol let go of him and smiled at him.

"You go do that, Daryl," she said. "I'll see you when I get over there to help her with the little things. I'll come over as soon as the movers leave."

"Sounds good," Daryl said, turning and letting himself out of the house. Carol watched from the window as he got in his truck and left, backing out of the driveway. For just a moment, she let herself imagine that this is what it would feel like to watch him leave the house for work in the mornings. This is what could be normal for her.

Carol set about unpacking the few things that she had left to unpack. She only stopped when she heard Lincoln's distinct howling from the yard. She made her way through the house, then, and let the movers in with the mattresses. Once the bed was set up, she thanked them and let them out again, watching as they left and Lincoln made laps in the yard from end of the fence to the other howling at their vehicle as it rolled away.

Carol went back to the bedroom and unpacked the sheets and comforter that had been bought for the bedroom. It wasn't the nicest quality bed set that anyone could imagine, but she liked it and she thought it had a nice homey feel to it. She made the bed quickly, stuffing the new pillows into their cases last and arranging them. She thought the bed looked nice and inviting, and she thought that Daryl might like it.

Finally, she crossed the house and slipped into what would eventually be an extra bedroom, but was essentially just where she'd been keeping whatever hadn't been unpacked already, and she pulled one of the stair sets that Tyreese had given her into the bedroom and pushed it against the bottom of the bed. It was the perfect height to allow Lincoln to climb in and out of bed as he pleased and she hoped he would think it was as exciting as she did. Before she left for the apartment building, she moved the other stair set to the end of the couch so that it could easily allow him access there as well.

Carol arranged Lincoln's bed and put his food and water down in the corner of the kitchen before she called him into the house and let him explore his space. He ran around and around, his nose to the floor and she only got his attention by rattling the top of his cookie jar. At the sound he abandoned his exploration and bounded toward her in anticipation of his treat.

"Be good while I'm gone," Carol told him, offering him two bones instead of one. He packed them in his jaws like he normally did, preferring to eat his treats in private instead of at the instant when they were handed to him. "Keep the house safe and don't tear anything up. We'll be home in just a little bit."

She didn't know how much the dog was capable of understanding in reality, but she felt like he could understand her. When she stood up from scratching him behind the ears, she watched as he trotted off and smelled his bed for a moment before deciding it was still something he could lie on to eat his treats, even if everything around it was different.

Carol slipped out of the house then, locking the door and almost skipping down the walkway to crawl into her truck and head to the apartment building to help Andrea and Merle get situated.

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It took a lot less time to move Andrea and Merle into the apartment than Carol would have imagined. Merle had protested the move the entire time, complaining that it was unnecessary and that Andrea was getting too big for her britches and all the like, but Carol couldn't help but noticed that for all his complaining, he looked pleased.

They formed a human chain, essentially, to pass everything from one place to the other, and then Daryl and Merle disappeared under the pretext of going to pick up a few things that Andrea sent them after to allow Carol and Andrea to go about unpacking everything and actually making the place liveable.

"This apartment is so much nicer than ours was," Andrea said. "I mean it doesn't even smell." To demonstrate her statement, Andrea took a big breath of air. "Well," she said, "it does smell a little like Lincoln, but it'll do."

Carol smelled the air. It just smelled like her apartment.

"It doesn't," she said. "Lincoln doesn't smell." She protested as an afterthought. She helped Andrea to put clean sheets on the bed in what used to be her room and what would now be Andrea and Merle's bedroom.

"Lincoln does smell," Andrea said.

"He's clean!" Carol protested.

Andrea chuckled.

"Even when you bathe him he still smells. You just have some sort of doggy mother nose and can't seem to pick up on that distinct hound dog odor," Andrea said.

Carol rolled her eyes.

"Geez, even the bed in here is nicer than ours, and I don't just mean that it's going to be nice to sleep on a mattress that isn't older than I am," Andrea said.

Carol smiled.

"I hate to feel like I'm giving you my hand me downs, but I'm glad that you've got the apartment now and that you like it," Carol said.

"And how about you and that fancy house?" Andrea teased. "It's beautiful and I can't wait to see what it looks like when you get to really fix it up."

"A little at a time, right?" Carol said.

"That's it…just like life, a little at a time," Andrea said.

They finished in the bedroom and Andrea sat on the bed a minute, looking around.

"Do you think we need to make up Daryl's bed?" Andrea asked.

They'd moved all of Daryl's things into the extra room that would theoretically be his, but Carol really hoped that it wouldn't stay that way. She hoped that he'd stay at her house, having already brought over for him the little "getaway" bag that Andrea had packed for him, and that he'd like it so much that slowly he would start to bring his things there and move in without even really realizing what he was doing.

"It's probably a good idea," Carol said. "I mean just so it's there."

Andrea nodded her head a little.

"Yeah, so it doesn't look like we're just throwing him out or something, right?" She asked.

"Right," Carol replied.

They went into the little room that Carol hadn't actually been in since they cleaned the apartment the first day that she'd moved in. Andrea brought out some of the sheets that they had and they began making up the bed so that Daryl would have a welcoming place to sleep if he did decide to stay there.

"He's staying with you, though, right?" Andrea asked.

"Tonight he is," Carol said. "He hasn't exactly said anything about staying for good, but I'm hoping that it'll just sort of happened…like it happened here."

"It probably will," Andrea said. "He didn't need a lot of urging to up and stay here."

They finished making the bed in silence and then made their way into the living room to sit on the couch and wait for the boys to get back. Andrea sighed once they were sitting there.

"You know, it's going to be kind of strange living here," she said.

"You think so?" Carol asked.

Andrea chuckled.

"Yeah, I mean this is 'Carol's apartment,'" Andrea said, looking around.

"But soon it'll be Merle and Andrea's apartment," Carol said, even though she agreed that the whole changing locations would be an adjustment for all of them.

"I know…just like your house will really feel like your house when I go there and not just seem like some strange new house that you're going to stay in," Andrea said. "Still, it's an adjustment."

Carol nodded.

"It's that for everyone," she agreed.

"I'm going to miss you being across the hall," Andrea said.

Carol looked at her and realized that Andrea was sincere. She also, for a moment, looked a little heartbroken. Carol smiled.

"Hey! I'm moving just across town, not to Mars," Carol said. She could feel a tightening in her chest, though, just from looking at Andrea's face and it dawned on her how much she was going to miss it too. She hadn't realized how much she'd gotten used to having them just across the hall. Even the smallest things, like running over there just to tell Andrea something, were things that she was probably going to miss at some point. "Look at it this way," Carol said. "My phone gets hooked up tomorrow and you're keeping the line here. We can call each other even when we're too lazy to drive."

Andrea nodded. She still looked sad and Carol wondered for a moment if she was going to cry. She hoped not, because she had the distinct feeling that if Andrea cried she would too, and Daryl and Merle would never be able to wrap their minds around that if they came home in the middle of it.

"I know," Andrea said, picking at the sheet that Carol had left to cover the gross couch that hid below it. "It's just…I don't know…I never had that best friend, you know? I never had that growing up…and I guess it just felt like having you across the hall…it was like having that friend I didn't have before."

Carol realized then that whether or not Andrea cried she was going to do the honors of starting it. She choked back a sob and wrapped her arms around Andrea, pulling her to her.

"Hey," she said, "I can be your best friend just fine in the house. It's really not going to make things that much different, OK? And you need to get away from Merle, you can come any time. I might not have a lot of furniture, but I've got more than enough for a well needed girls' night."

She didn't let go of Andrea and she heard when Andrea chuckled at her and the chuckle broke. Andrea wrapped her arms around her, hugging her hard.

"I feel so stupid!" Andrea said. "I know it's not a big deal, but it just feels like it is."

Carol finally pulled away and wiped at her face while Andrea did the same.

"It's not stupid," Carol said. "It's a change, even if it isn't a very big one. You're allowed to feel however you want."

Andrea smiled then.

"We better get control of this," she said. "Merle can't handle the whole emotional thing."

Carol smiled, wiping her face again.

"I don't want Daryl to see it either," she said. "He's weird enough right now about the move that he doesn't need the emotion on top of it."

"Come on," Andrea said. "Let's make some sandwiches for lunch. Then we can kill two birds with one stone. We'll have something to feed them when they get back and it'll take our minds off all this moving mess."

Carol smiled.

"Sounds like a good idea," she said, getting up and helping Andrea.

She knew that soon the men would be back. They'd eat lunch together and probably hang out for a little bit, and then eventually she and Daryl would drive back to the house with the excuse that poor Lincoln, no matter how good he wanted to be, could only hold it so long. Then they'd leave, closing the book on this chapter of Carol's life…and apparently on a chapter of Andrea's. She didn't know, really, if the men felt about things the way that they did.

Tonight, though, she'd be sleeping in her new bed in her new home, and she'd be opening a new chapter…one that she hoped she could share with Daryl, as well as with the people that were becoming dearer and dearer to her every day.

She smiled to herself at the thought. One step at a time she was slowly living her dream, and even though the change was a little sad, she had to admit that the future prospects were pretty exciting.


	53. Chapter 53

**AN: So here's the first update. There will hopefully be quite a few today. I have a couple of pages of notes for the chapters that I'd like to get through simply because the thoughts are invading my brain so my apologies to anyone that wants updates around the board because I'm stuck here at least until I make it through the updates (I think they're reasonably divided into chapters now) that are driving me nuts. Otherwise I won't be able to focus on trying to write for any of the other stories. **

**That being said, I'll try to let you know what number we're on so you don't get lost and miss something.**

**As always, thank you for your comments and reviews. They mean the world to me, even though I won't be responding to them individually right now as I'm trying to get this all out, hopefully before I have to go to work! **

**I hope you enjoy! **

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The first night at the new house wasn't nearly as exciting as Carol had thought it might be. She wasn't sure exactly what she envisioned, but the house was empty and she didn't have a television or anything to fill the silence.

They'd stopped and bought pizza on the way from the apartments to the house and when they got there they sat at the new dining room table and ate pizza together chatting a little about Merle and Andrea moving into the apartment and how Merle had behaved while he was out with Daryl. Carol hadn't mentioned the tearful moment with Andrea or anything like that.

After dinner, Daryl said he was tired and ready for bed. Carol thought that there still might be something eating at him, but for all her probing he kept insisting that it was nothing and he just wanted to go to bed. Finally she had shown him that she was unpacking the little bag that Andrea sent for him and that he had clothes and a toothbrush there so he didn't have to worry about the nights that he wanted to stay over. He was prepared.

Daryl hadn't really responded to the suggestion of the overnight bag. He'd nodded his head a little and accepted it, but then he'd simply gone into the bathroom and brushed his teeth.

Carol found him in the bed when she got came in from brushing her own teeth. Lincoln was beside him, probably having learned how to use his stairs. Carol pulled back the cover on what was apparently her side of the bed, at least until something happened and she got rolled to the other side, and crawled in.

Carol realized that whatever kind of mood that Daryl was in, the very same one that he swore he wasn't in and apparently didn't want to talk about, he wasn't really in the mood to suggest they do anything. It was bothering her, as she lie there, because she'd seen it in her head as some beautiful scene where this would be the first night in her home, and they were in what she had come to consider their bed for the first night, so rationally they should do something to make it special.

She rolled her head in Daryl's direction. The light from a street lamp lit the bedroom up pretty well, especially since she had blinds but no curtains yet, and she could see that he already had his eyes closed. It felt like he was a million miles away from her and not just across the bed. Carol moved over some and rubbed her foot on his leg. He kept his eyes closed in response. She rolled on her side and reached out, trailing her fingers over his arm, but for her efforts all she got was a goodnight kiss she wasn't expecting from Lincoln.

Carol sighed and rolled over. Daryl said he would never tell her no. Those had been his exact words. Apparently, though, in Daryl language that mean that he would just pretend he was asleep if he wasn't in the mood to do anything with her. Carol wasn't going to push it. She didn't want to feel like she'd forced Daryl to sleep with her their first night in the house. That was an image that just didn't go with her idea of home either.

Carol rolled over and tried to adjust to the atmosphere surrounding her new home and what it felt like to try to sleep there. She knew it would be a lot easier if Daryl had seemed more enthusiastic about the whole thing, but she guessed that it was one of those things that he had to adjust to as well. She just hoped that it didn't take him too long to learn to love their new home and to want to play along with her making the memories that she thought were important for building this next part of their relationship.

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The next morning Carol was up before Daryl. She had only bothered to buy the basic groceries, deciding she could do a more leisurely trip later, and she'd brought over what they had in the apartment. At least for the morning she could make him pancakes and sausage like he like and offer him coffee. She figured that was a sure fire way to lighten his mood and maybe get him to either let go of the funk he seemed to be in the night before or at least discuss a little what was wrong.

Carol opened the door and smiled as Lincoln trotted outside to patrol his yard. She started the coffee maker an got the dishes out of the cabinets to start making breakfast. She turned at the sound of Daryl's feet slapping on the wood floor and smiled to see him wandering through the house in his boxers looking a little disoriented.

"Making breakfast," she said. "Pancakes and link sausage, your favorite."

Daryl smiled a sleepy smile at her. He came near her and looked out the window that she'd been glancing out of from time to time. She knew everything was fine, but she was still adjusting to the feeling of leaving Lincoln outside alone for any given length of time. For some reason she kept having horrible feelings that something might happen to him or the fence might magically disappear and he could run away. She knew they were ridiculous feelings, but they were flashing through her mind nonetheless.

"He likes the yard," Daryl grumbled, his voice heavy still with sleep.

"He does," Carol said. "I guess it's a lot more fun than pulling one of us behind him on a leash."

"He likes them damn stairs ya got him too," Daryl said. He yawned and stretched and Carol felt a little relieved. He was lighter this morning than he'd been the night before and she was glad to see that whatever it had been was apparently slowly fading. He just needed a little time, perhaps, just like everyone else.

"I hoped he would like the stairs. Last night was the first time I saw him use them," Carol said.

"Yeah ya was over there snorin' somewhere 'round tha middle a' the damn night when he got him an idea ta run laps up an' down 'em. It was like he figured they was gonna go away or somethin' an' he better damn well get some use outta 'em." Daryl said.

Carol chuckled.

"It's all new for everyone," she said. "I guess he's just trying to adjust to it all like we all are."

Carol flipped the pancakes onto Daryl's plate and moved around his sausage links in the pan a little more.

"OK," she said. "Your breakfast is going to be ready soon. Go sit at the table and I'll bring it to you."

"Ya want me ta carry somethin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled.

"No, I want you to go sit at the table so I can serve you your first breakfast in the new house," Carol said.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"OK then," he said. He shook his head a little and walked toward the table. Carol quickly gathered together the syrup and his utensils and napkin and carried it over to him. Next she brought his coffee, shifting the sausage around and making sure it got just the right amount of black on it. Daryl apparently liked his sausage burnt and if you cooked a plate full of it he would spend at least three minutes sorting through the entire plate to find the pieces that were most burnt. For Carol it was hard to just let herself burn food, especially since Ed had always punished her for things like that, but she'd heard Andrea declare it was the best thing in the world. She could forget about Daryl's breakfast and he was happy about it.

Carol finally decided she'd burned his sausage as much as she was comfortable with. She took it to him and sat across from him with her coffee while he ate.

"Ya ain't gon' eat?" He asked.

Carol shook her head.

"I'm at Lula's today. I'm working a partial shift just for the money. I'll just grab something then," Carol said.

"Ya didn't have ta make me breakfast if ya wasn't gonna eat," Daryl said, eating with some enthusiasm.

Carol smiled.

"I wanted to make you breakfast, Daryl," Carol said. "That was the whole reason I did it."

"Well it's good," Daryl said. "Thank ya."

Carol smiled.

"You're more than welcome and I'm glad you're enjoying it. You need to eat if you're going to be stuck out there at Hershel's," Carol said.

"I get sandwiches for lunch," Daryl said.

Carol nodded.

"What kind of sandwiches do you like?" She asked. She wondered if he'd like it if she _sent_ sandwiches with him. She wouldn't mind making a sandwich with maybe a little something extra to pack him lunch before work. She thought that she might enjoy it, actually.

Daryl shrugged.

"I like chicken salad," he said.

"Just chicken salad?" Carol asked. She was beginning to understand that Daryl wasn't really a man of varied culinary tastes. He liked what he liked and that was pretty much the end of it.

He nodded.

"I like other stuff too," he said. "But if Miss Jo's askin' what we want, I'm gettin' chicken salad."

Carol smiled and nodded a little. She thought that she might have to swing by the A and P and make sure she picked up some stuff to make him chicken salad. It could be a nice surprise for him.

After Daryl finished his breakfast, he went and brushed his teeth and then he passed through the house, ready to head to Hershel's. Carol met him in the kitchen, wrapping her arms around him. He leaned down and kissed her and she wished that he didn't have to hurry off so that they could make up for what his sour mood of the night before had deprived them of, but she knew he hated to be late.

"You're coming here after work, aren't you?" Carol asked. She had already decided to make these statements as difficult for him to refuse as possible. Instead of asking where he was going after work, which could lead to him making a difficult decision, she would simply plant the correct answer to the question in the question itself. Then he wouldn't have to think about it too much.

Daryl considered it a moment and then nodded.

"Good," Carol said. "I'm getting off work early because the phone people are going to come and set the phone up. I might step out to run to the store, but I'll be back right after. You've got the spare key, right?"

Daryl felt in his pocket and came out with his keys. He found the shiny new key on the ring.

"Got it," he said, his arms still wrapped around her.

Carol smiled.

"Then you have a good day at work and I'll see you whenever we both get home," Carol said. He leaned down to kiss her quickly and then pulled away, heading out the door. She watched him from the window as he got in the truck and left for Hershel's. Once he was out of sight, she turned and headed toward the bedroom to get herself ready to get a few hours in at Lula's.

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Carol beat the people that were coming in to hook up the phone by about half an hour. It was enough time to get Lincoln out the door and clean up the mess he'd made in her absence when he thought he should help her get settled into the house by leaving one or two surprises here and there and also by brutally murdering one of his many stuffed toys and leaving the living room looking more like a stuffing factory crime scene than anything else.

She greeted the phone people when they got there and left them to do what they needed to do while she worked at unpacking some of the small boxes stowed in the guest bedroom. All that was really left were a few boxes of odds and ends and more than a handful of little decorative items and the like for her to put around.

Some of the women had given her what appeared to be grab bag gifts with picture frames, candles, scented soaps, and all kinds of random things that she thought were nice little additions to the space, even it meant that she had to figure out where to put everything. The gifts also made her realize, though, that she now had frames and no photos. She didn't have a camera either, but she knew that Michonne did and she thought maybe it would be nice to do something like have a picnic at the lake and take some pictures. The leaves were changing colors, so at least that could make for some pretty backgrounds before everything died for the winter.

Once the phone people left, Carol finished up with the things that she needed to unpack and sat down to start making a grocery list. She was considering some things that she could make for dinner, and she thought it might be nice to bake a few things. The changing weather and the excitement of the house had her in an odd sort of nesting mood and she thought that something like apple pie was more than in store for the near future. She also needed to get some things to pack Daryl's lunch so that he could leave in the morning with something instead of going empty handed to work.

While she was working on her list, she heard Lincoln sound the alarm that someone was outside. She got up and went to the window in time to see Michonne's car, but she was startled when Michonne knocked on the door.

"Come in," Carol called, smiling. "I missed you. By the time I knew you were out there you were at the door."

Michonne smiled.

"I was talking to Lincoln when I first got out the car," Michonne said. "He didn't decide to bark at me until I decided to stop talking."

"He's some guard dog," Carol said with a chuckle.

"So? How does it feel?" Michonne asked.

Carol smiled.

"I'm getting used to it," she said. "It was a little strange at first, you know? I mean last night was odd, but I'm starting to settle into the idea a little now," Carol replied.

"That's good," Michonne said with a smile. "You need to start making lists of things you need. That way everyone knows what to be on the lookout for."

Michonne was looking around and Carol knew that it was the mostly empty nature of the house that had her attention. Carol didn't mind the fact that the house didn't have too much in it yet. She liked the simplicity of it and she knew that with time she would acquire everything she needed and probably a ton of things she didn't need. She was a little nervous about telling Michonne much of what she wanted and needed because she'd already learned that the woman was more than likely to just show up one day with an entire semi-truck loaded down with everything.

"Yeah," Carol said. "I'm going to work on that. I think that the only thing that I'm going to get soon, though, are some tools for the fireplace. It's getting chilly outside and I think it would be nice to try it out."

"Well don't buy any," Michonne said. "My parents had a fireplace that they eventually blocked up and I know for a fact that I've got the fireplace set because it's in the attic. I had it out for decoration, but I thought toddlers and fire irons didn't exactly go well together.

Carol smiled.

"I'm not sure how Lincoln and fire irons go together either," she admitted.

"Well you have a fireplace," Michonne said. "It makes more sense for you. I don't so they were purely decorative. You could put up a little fence area here around the fireplace to keep all of that safe. I've seen them. I might get one for you…you know, for when you have the girls over here."

"You don't have to buy me things," Carol said. She was already seeing the wheels in Michonne's head turning.

"I don't have to, but I am allowed to give gifts to my friends when I want to," Michonne said. "I'm not here about that, though, I'm actually here on business."

"Oh?" Carol asked. She went to the coffee pot and fixed herself a cup of coffee that she'd turned on to warm earlier. "You want coffee?"

Michonne nodded and Carol went about fixing her a cup while she explained the nature of her visit.

"I drove to county today to pick some things up," Michonne said. "I thought they were important and it might be nice to have them now instead of having to wait for the mail and sorting and all that mess."

"What is it?" Carol asked. She crossed to where Michonne was leaning on the island and opening her briefcase. She put a coffee cup down for Michonne and sipped from her own cup, waiting to see what Michonne would dig out of the mass of papers that she carried about with her.

"Well," Michonne said, "you got another check from Ed's bank." She held up the envelope and Carol grinned, taking it and immediately beginning to rip it open. "And the good news is that it's even more than we expected. One of the very nice judges over at county happened to have another glance at your case and it seems that you've been awarded a little more than we thought. It's just terrible for Ed who's not going to have a penny to his worthless name when he gets the hell out of prison, but it's good news for you."

Carol looked at the check, her eyes going wide.

"Oh my God! This is great! And there's more?" Carol asked.

Michonne nodded.

"Oh, there's more. Turns out Ed had been squirreling away a good bit of money. He had another savings account," Michonne said.

Carol narrowed her eyebrows.

"We just had the one…I told you about that one," Carol said.

Michonne shook her head.

"You had the one. Ed had the other. He was putting money in there from the business and then performing a beautiful little act of fraud by not exactly reporting the money that he put in there. I guess he figured if he didn't tell anyone about it, no one would ever find out," Michonne said. She grinned. "Ed didn't count on the fact that I find out everything. So he's getting a little more time to his sentence for pissing off Uncle Sam and you're getting a few more bucks in your wallet thanks to the honorable Judge Lambert who will be dining with my father at a very nice restaurant of his choosing this weekend."

Carol chuckled.

"Michonne this is great!" Carol declared.

"That's not all," Michonne said. She raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not sure I can stand much more today," Carol said, grinning.

Michonne produced another folder from her briefcase and flipped through it, passing Carol an envelope.

"I need you to sign a couple more things," Michonne said.

Carol nodded. She'd signed so much lately that if she didn't trust Michonne she'd be afraid that she'd promised her soul to some unknown third party.

"But in that envelope you have the papers declaring your divorce from Ed Peletier to be final," Michone said.

Carol's eyes grew big.

"I thought it was going to take at least a year or something like that…" She stuttered out.

"Under normal circumstances, it would," Michonne said. "But with Ed's shiny new list of convictions and the determination of the honorable Judge Lambert to make things right, he got things processed. Walked right through the red tape and mess. You, my dear, are a free woman."

Carol squealed and Michonne circled around the island, wrapping her arms around her. Carol didn't realize she would cry the day that she was divorced, but she was crying now and there was nothing she could do about it.

She was free from Ed. It was almost impossible to believe. She was free from him. He was in prison doing time for all the things that he'd done to her. He was doing time for his abuse, and he was doing time, even, for what he'd done to the government by trying to pull a fast one on them. Ed was getting some sort of punishment for being the type of man that he was and she was standing in the kitchen of her new home, hugging the lawyer that had become one of her best friends. It didn't even feel, for a moment, like this was her life. It couldn't be her life, it was too good for the way she'd learned to think about what constituted her existence.

"I'm getting my name changed," Carol said when they broke apart. "That's the next thing I'm doing. I'm not carrying around his name anymore."

Michonne smiled.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Michonne said.

Michonne stayed for a while longer and filled Carol in on the details of everything, but eventually she dismissed herself, saying that she had a few things that needed to get done. Carol thanked her profusely for having taken her time out of work to drive to county to pick everything up and deliver it personally.

Once Carol had seen Michonne out, she decided that some sort of celebration was in order. She had a crazy idea, one that she would never have dreamed of doing while married to Ed, but it seemed like a good idea now just to celebrate her freedom from the asshole.

Her groceries and special dinner would have to wait for the night. She'd buy something nice for dinner and bring it home to share with Daryl. She needed to go shopping because she was going to announce to Daryl tonight that she was a free woman and then they were going to celebrate her good fortune and newfound liberation.

Carol quickly threw herself together, scribbled a note for Daryl, gave Lincoln three treats just to celebrate the good news, and rushed out the house, overwhelmed with how wonderful her life was becoming.


	54. Chapter 54

**AN: OK, second update of the day! **

**Here we go!**

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When Daryl got back to the new house after work, he was tired and sweaty. He dug around in his pocket and found the key, noticing that Carol's truck was gone, so she must be out shopping like she'd suggested. Daryl pushed the door open and stepped into the house.

He looked at the floor and realized that his shoes were dirty. He didn't want to track dirt into the house because everything looked so clean that he didn't want to be the one to mess things up. Carol wasn't dirty and she wouldn't truck cow manure and dirt everywhere, but Daryl was the kind that made a mess everywhere he went.

He knew those kinds of things bothered women because he'd heard Andrea rant about it more than once and that was when they live in the trashy little apartment, so he could only imagine that it would drive Carol insane in a clean house like this one. He pulled his shoes off at the door and put them right beside the door frame. Then he thought about it, and remembered Lincoln's desire to help him not have shoelaces, and he picked them up and sat them outside the door where they were safer. Lincoln's little yard didn't give him access to that door.

Daryl walked carefully in the house, and let Lincoln out. Coming back through, he noticed a note lying on the island in the kitchen. He picked it up and read it. Carol's flowery handwriting announced that she had some things that she needed to do and she'd be back later bringing supper because she had a surprise for him.

Daryl wasn't sure what her surprise might be, but he figured he should clean up for it since he wasn't even comfortable standing in the house as dirty as he was. He tried to walk as carefully to the bathroom as possible, feeling convinced that he was leaving a trail of dirt behind him. When he got there, though, he couldn't bring himself to strip down and shower, so he turned right back around.

He let the dog back and in and left the house, leaving his shoes by the door and went in his socks to his truck. He'd rather drive back to the apartments and take a shower there. At least Andrea would know to expect a half a pound of dirt and crud piled in the bathroom floor.

Daryl drove to the apartments and climbed the stairs. He almost shoved his way into the old apartment before he remembered that they no longer lived there. He bit at the skin on his thumb and knocked on the door to what he still thought of as Carol's apartment. No one answered and he burrowed in his pocket and found his key again, opening the door and going inside. They hadn't bothered changing the locks since it wasn't like the apartment was really doing some sort of dramatic change of owners.

Daryl went straight to the bathroom and shucked off his clothes, turning on the water so that it warmed up. Carol's shower got warmer a lot quicker than the one across the hall had, and Daryl was used to it, so he slipped in, surprised momentarily to find it stocked with Andrea's preferred soaps and shampoos instead of the ones that he was used to when he piled into the shower with Carol.

Daryl washed quickly and was pleased to find that Andrea was far enough ahead on the laundry to have a clean towel hanging up on the towel rack for him to use. He dried off in the shower and wrapped it around his waist, making his way out of the bathroom and toward the room that he'd only been in long enough to switch out the mattresses. Apparently that was his room now.

Daryl dug around in the old furniture in the little room and found his clothes, dressing as quickly as he could. He didn't hear Merle come in, so he was surprised to find him sitting at the kitchen table drinking a Coke.

"What'cha doin' here, lil' brothah?" Merle asked when Daryl appeared. "I figured ya'd be over at'cha new luxury house."

"I came to shower," Daryl said softly. He went to the refrigerator and took inventory of what was in there before he got some juice and dug around in the cabinets looking for where Andrea had put the glasses.

"Why'd ya come take a shower in our shitty ass shower when ya got'cha that brand new one ta break in now? Ya woman done run ya out that fast?" Merle asked with a chuckle.

Daryl rolled his eyes at his brother and didn't respond at first. He pulled a chair out at the table and sat down across from Merle.

"That house is so damn clean I'm damn near afraid ta walk in it," Daryl said. "I drag in half a damn cow pasture every fuckin' day at Hershel's an' I don't wanna track that shit all over the place."

Merle hummed at him.

"Lil' woman done bitchin' 'bout ya trackin' dirt in, huh?" Merle asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"She ain't said nothin' 'cause she ain't home," Daryl said. "She left me a note. Said she got some kinda surprise for me that she gon' tell me 'bout over supper an' she's gone ta pick up a few things, whatever the fuck that means."

Merle chuckled.

"Means she's already gettin' into her new damn lifestyle. Goin' shoppin' an' shit ta pick up a lil' somethin' here an' a lil' somethin' there," Merle said. "An' don't'cha worry, she'll start bitchin' soon enough about the damn dirt. Andrea's raised hell across the hall, didn't she? Reckon she's gonna be any different here?"

Daryl didn't think Andrea had really raised hell about it. More than once she might have bitched a little about the mess, but she didn't have a tendency to do too much hell raising…at least not to the degree that Merle would have you believe.

"This place ain't even like the house, Merle," Daryl said. "They's so much damn fancy wood an' tile an' shit. Ya can't hardly step without feelin' like ya gonna mess somethin' up that ain't never been messed up before. At least here ya know this shit's been dirty damn near a million times before so it ain't nothin' it ain't seen before."

Merle chuckled.

"That's why the hell it's a pain ta get any damn thing that's new. Seems all shiny an' shit when ya get it, but the fuckin' shine won't last forever an' then ya feel like ya really done fucked somethin' up. At least if the fuckin' shine's gone when ya get it then ya ain't sorry ta see it go," Merle said.

"Ya reckon things is gonna seem better once the house gets dirty?" Daryl asked.

Merle shrugged.

"Fuck if I know, Derlina. I ain't never lived in no new fuckin' house. Hell, I ain't really never lived in no damn place ya could really call a house at all. Trailers an' shit…fuckin' nasty ass apartments…that's where the hell I hang my fuckin' hat. Ya the only one tryin' ta step inta some kind fancy ass new life, boy. Can't be lookin' at me 'bout that shit," Merle said.

Daryl thought about it. The whole thing was a little mindboggling. The house was new and that was intimidating. The whole thing smelled like glue and sawdust and new house. Everything in it was still so damn perfect. It wasn't a place for him. He didn't feel like he fit there.

Even sleeping in it the night before had been strange. The bed was a bed he'd never slept in and the sheet and the blanket didn't smell like the ones at the apartment had smelled. At the apartment they'd smelled like Carol, and like Daryl, and even like Lincoln, but they hadn't smelled like plastic and something else that Daryl couldn't identify. Hell, even his pillow at the house was all puffy and fluffy and didn't even have a spot that he could identify was the place where his head was going to fit the best.

Even when they'd moved from shithole to another, it hadn't seemed as drastic. Every place they went everything was old and it was used. It might not be them that had used it, but even if they destroyed every damn thing in the place they hadn't hurt a single that anyone would notice was messed up and they certainly hadn't taken out anything that would be missed.

He wondered if eventually all the new and unfamiliar in the house would go away. He wondered if somehow it would start to feel worn and comfortable and he'd find his place there. It seemed really hard to imagine at the moment, though. He wasn't even positive that he had a place there. Carol seemed to think he did, but over and over his mind kept going back to what Merle had said before, as though the whole thing was temporary. Somehow they'd be swept up in some kind of tornado of change…and once it got rolling good, it just wasn't going to stop.

"I ain't tryin' ta have no fancy damn life," Daryl said finally. "I'm just tryin' ta have a normal damn life an' I'm hopin' that damn place seems like a normal place soon enough."

Merle shook his head.

"I don't know, Daryl…all I can say is good fuckin' luck ta ya, then. I hope ya ain't too damn disappointed," Merle said.

Daryl looked at him. As odd as it may have seemed to anyone else, Daryl saw that as some of kind of well wishes from Merle. And that was strange all in itself.

"Ya wishin' me luck 'cause ya think this shit is gettin' ready ta blow up in my fuckin' face, ain't'cha?" Daryl asked.

Merle shrugged and nodded a little.

"Fuck, brothah," he growled. "Yeah, I do think it's 'bout ta blow up in ya face. Hell I ain't sure that this shit ain't 'bout ta blow up in mine, but I'll wish ya good damn luck one way or tha fuckin' other. I want'cha ta be happy, Derlina…believe it or fuckin' not, I want'cha snotty lil' ass ta be happy. I just hope ya ain't 'bout ta get ya feelin's hurt."

Daryl didn't really say anything but he nodded.

"I reckon I oughta go soon," Daryl said. "I don't know exactly what time Carol was intendin' on comin' back with supper an' she's got somethin' planned so I don't wanta fuck it up for her. Where tha hell is Andrea?"

"Had ta work," Merle said. "But I'ma be just fine. Got me a date with a t.v. dinner an' the damnn t.v. Damn woman ain't here ta tell me what I can an' can't watch."

Daryl nodded and got up, heading for the door.

"Daryl," Merle called out, heading to the freezer. Daryl turned and looked at him. "I really do hope ya life don't be as fucked up as it could be, but ya always got a place with me, brothah. That ain't never gon' change. Ya just 'member that if ya lil' woman flies tha coop on ya."

Daryl nodded and slipped out the door, closing it behind him. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach and it was making anything but hungry and ready for a surprise. Right now he didn't like the idea of surprises at all.

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Carol had seen Daryl's shoes by the door and wondered where he'd gone without them, but she figured he might have driven over to see Merle and Andrea to pass a little time. She put the food containers in the oven in hopes that the food wouldn't be too terribly cold when it was time for them to eat, but eating wasn't the first thing that she had on her mind.

She was grateful that Daryl wasn't home immediately because it gave her time to get ready and she needed the time to figure out how to even get into the contraption that she'd bought. She'd been so embarrassed buying the thing that she hadn't wanted to ask for any help. She was confident that it fit, though she wasn't certain it was the best fit because she realized that she didn't want anyone to see her and she certainly didn't want any opinions on what would be better. She could only hope that Daryl appreciated the effort for what it was worth.

She dressed in the outfit as quickly as she could, not knowing how much time she had, and tried to control her auburn locks to the best of her abilities. She slathered on some make up and perfume in the bathroom mirror, hoping that she looked less like the hooker she thought she looked like and more like the sexy seductress she was going for.

As soon as she left the bathroom, though, and slipped on the ridiculous heels that she had, she started to feel like this entire idea was going to be a complete failure. She was great at imagining things. She'd always been told she had a wonderful imagination, but what she imagined and what really happened usually had a way of not resembling each other in the slightest. She feared that this was one of those moments.

The lingerie was a black lace teddy, and she didn't know if they were all meant to be so uncomfortable. It was simple, but it pulled in places she hadn't even thought about all that much before she wrestled into it. The belt and hose that she bought were standard, or so she thought, but the tiny clasps on the belt weren't as easy to attach as she'd imagined they'd would be and she'd pinched the hell out of her finger and broken one of them.

On top of it all, looking in the mirror, she realized that the woman she saw in her imagination…the woman that was wearing something similar…simply looked a lot different than her own reflection staring back at her. When she tried to walk in the heels, easing through the house to figure out exactly how she was going to set up this wonderful surprise she had in mind, she had to hold to the wall so as to not fall out of her shoes. She wasn't used to trying to stand in heels like this and she had all the seductive qualities at the moment of a drunk cow.

She was almost ready to abandon the entire plan entirely, and probably would have, but Daryl pulled up and she was in the living room. She couldn't get back to the bedroom and out of the costume before he'd open the door. Realizing she had no time to plan anything any farther, Carol made her best effort to lean somewhat seductively, or at least she hoped that's what it looked like and not like she was trying to recover from some nasty injury, against the wall closest to her. She stood there, trying to get her heart to stop pounding, and waiting on him to walk through the door.

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Daryl had spent most of his drive from the apartment building up to the sulking mood that he was now sporting. He pulled open the door and stepped into the house, still looking at his feet. He hadn't bothered putting on clean shoes at the apartment, so at least he didn't have to decide what the hell to do about that.

He looked into the living room just as he came in and he had to take a minute to process what was even happening. Carol was leaned against one of the walls, and in theory she was smiling at him, but she looked a little like she was suffering. He wondered if she'd gotten hurt or something for a brief moment, and then he was entirely distracted.

Daryl had never in his life seen a woman wearing something like she was wearing. He'd seen something like that a time or two in some of the magazines that Merle used to have which he stole from time to time, and once they'd found an old porno movie in one of the places they'd rented where the woman wore something similar, but he'd never seen one in the flesh.

And now Carol was leaning against a wall wearing this black number and balancing on high heels. Daryl was embarrassed at himself and a little ashamed of the fact that he felt himself go hard almost instantly, just staring at her. He readjusted himself and tried to decide if this was really happening or if he was having some kind of unexpected hallucination.

"Welcome home," Carol said. Immediately she grimaced at her own words. She didn't know if she was supposed to call this his home and she didn't know how he'd react to it. His face was blank at the moment, so she really didn't have much to go on.

Daryl slowly made his way around to her, standing a few feet in front of her like he wasn't sure what to do. She hoped that she didn't look ridiculous and that he wasn't going to go running from the room.

"What'cha wearin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled.

"Do you like it?" She asked.

Daryl swallowed, looking at her from head to toe.

"I do like it," he said. "Ya look like ya hurt, though. Ya OK?" He eyed her shoes and wondered if she'd fallen down. He learned that morning that the floors were a little slick if you hit them wrong in sock feet and he didn't know if shoes like that might throw you.

Carol sighed.

"Honestly?" She asked. "Could you do without the shoes? I think I'd like it a lot more if I hadn't thought of the shoes…"

Daryl chuckled a little.

"Hell if ya don't like tha shoes then don't wear 'em," he said.

Carol sighed and slipped out of the shoes, her facial expression changing almost instantly from pained to curious.

"Is this the surprise?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled.

"It's one of them," she said. "Do you like it or are you just being nice? Because I've got dinner too and you can eat if you're hungry…"

Daryl stepped forward and pulled her to him, finally plucking her off of the wall. He kissed her as deeply as he dared and ran his hand down her back, pushing her against him. She moaned a little into his mouth.

"I guess you do like it," she panted when they pulled apart.

"Ya gonna eat like that?" Daryl asked. Carol noticed that he was looking directly at her breasts and his finger was tracing lazily inside the bottom of the outfit, just across her ass cheek. She shivered.

"I was thinking I might take it off first," she said.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked. The hand not doing the tracing pulled her forward and Daryl bucked into her slightly. She giggled.

"Yeah, I was thinking that it might be nicer not to wear it while I eat," Carol said.

Daryl brought his mouth back to her and she teased him with her tongue. She brought her hand around his back and slid it down into the back of his pants and inside his underwear, scratching him lightly as she squeezed at his ass. He bucked again, grinding her against him with his hand and she gasped into his mouth, her breathing already starting to pick up. She was embarrassed at the fact that she could already feel herself flooding in expectation of him.

"Do you think…" she started, clearing her throat and trying to get her voice not to come out with the short gasps that matched her troubled breathing, "do you think that we could go to the bedroom?"

Daryl brought his mouth to her neck, sucking a moment, his hands still exploring the edges of the outfit. She could tell that he was already invested in what she had planned.

"We could do that," he said, finally.

Carol started to pull away from him to walk back to the bedroom…this time without the added effort of the shoes, but he surprised her by grabbing her under the ass and hauling her up. She immediately wrapped her arms and legs around him to help him, and prayed that Lincoln had the good common sense to stay out of their way while Daryl tried to quickly carry her to their bed.

Once they were in the bedroom, Daryl's mouth was all over her as soon as he'd tossed her on the bed. He backed off only long enough to pull his shirt over his head and to shed his pants. She almost laughed, thinking that she'd never seen him out of his clothes so quickly.

As he climbed onto the bed, though, and started regarding her like some kind of present to be opened on Christmas morning, his brows knitted together in concern. Carol was confused for a moment at his sudden change in countenance, but she figured out quickly that he had no idea how to get her out of there, just as she'd had a difficult time figuring out how to get in.

"Don't worry," she said. She slid herself back on the bed that she was lying across sideways to give him more room and she spread her legs. She reached around, grabbing his hand and bringing it to her slit which he stroked as soon as she put his hand there. She moaned and leaned up a little, urging him to bring his lips back to hers, which he did. "It's crotchless," she said. "We can figure out how to get it off later…when things aren't so…urgent."

Daryl didn't need any more urging and he immediately crawled between her legs, kissing her neck and entering her without any more words. Carol thought that he still hadn't mastered her request for a little warning, but she didn't mind. He thrust into her harder and faster than he normally did, and she wondered if whatever was bothering him earlier was the fuel behind his rough approach now. She didn't mind, though, and she spurred him on with her moaning and by raking her nails across his back as he pounded into her, searching for release for them both.

When climax came for them both, Daryl rolled off of Carol and lie on his back, breathing hard next to her. It was only then that she bothered to begin working her way out of the outfit, piling up the pieces on the corner of the bed as she went.

"So you're not disappointed?" She asked, wrestling out of the top.

Daryl rolled his head toward her, swallowing and staring at her for a moment.

"'Course I ain't disappointed," he said. His tone of voice made it sound like she'd asked him the most ridiculous question ever. Carol leaned over, kissing his throat and then moving to kiss his lips. When she went to pull away from the kiss, he buried his hand in her hair and tugged her back toward him, prolonging it for a little longer.

"If you're hungry, we have dinner too," she said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Can I eat in my drawers or I gotta get dressed up?" He asked.

Carol didn't know what he meant, and she wrinkled her brow a moment in response.

"You can eat any way that you want to eat, Daryl," she said. "There's no dress code. I'm eating in a t shirt and panties if that gives you anything to go on."

Daryl nodded a little.

Carol took that as his indication that he'd like to have dinner, so she got down off the bed and slipped into the outfit she'd promised to dine in. She couldn't help but remark to herself how comfortable it was after the last garment. She slipped through the house, then, and went about setting the table and putting dinner out and Daryl joined her not long after.

Carol lit a couple of candles and put them between her and Daryl at the table.

"Candles?" He asked.

"It's romantic," she said with a smile. "Go ahead, eat."

Daryl did start eating, apparently happy with the food since he didn't say much.

"The rest of the surprise is…" Carol started.

"There's more?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled.

"Yes…" she said. "Michonne came by today, Daryl. I got the papers. I'm divorced from Ed."

Daryl looked at her like he didn't quite understand.

"I'm divorced," she repeated. "I'm not married to Ed anymore. I'm a free woman."

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah, I know what divorced means," Daryl said.

Carol was a little struck. Daryl didn't look as excited as she thought he'd be. She had just assumed that he would think it was as wonderful as she did. He had said a few times that he wished she wasn't still married to Ed, so she just thought that his reaction might have been a little more upbeat, but he didn't look like he was exactly thrilled.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked. "I thought you'd be happy to know that I'm not married to Ed anymore."

"I am happy," Daryl said, finally. He smiled, though it wasn't an entirely genuine one. "Really," he said. "I'm real happy for ya an' I'm glad ya ain't married ta that asshole no more. I really am." He smiled again, this time looking more sincere.

Carol smiled and nodded at him, trying not to let it bother her that the reaction wasn't quite what she had maybe hoped it would be.

"Ya got more surprises?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head. She smiled a little.

"No," she said. "That's it. Those are all the surprises I've got."

Daryl nodded and went back to eating.

"Daryl, is there anything you want to talk to me about? The divorce or anything else?" Carol finally asked. She didn't know what was bothering him, but something just seemed off.

"No," Daryl said. "Ain't got nothin' ta talk about. I'm glad ya divorced but I don't know what else ya want me ta say about it."

"No," Carol said, "you don't have to say anything else about it. That's just fine."

Carol turned her attention to her own food and hoped that whatever it was that was apparently bothering Daryl was something that he got worked out for himself soon. The fact that he didn't want to talk about it had her a little concerned that it was something about her or something that she had done, but she didn't really know what to do about it until he decided to let her in on whatever was the problem.

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**AN: OK, part two of my crazy weekend updates. Let me know what you think! **


	55. Chapter 55

AN: Third update of the day…let's keep going, shall we?

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Daryl woke up the next day and got out of bed. The night before had been a good night, and he'd enjoyed the fact that Carol had seemed even more interested in sleeping with him than she normally did, but he still felt a little out of place in the house and his mind was swimming now with everything that was going on around him.

His surroundings were different and now Carol was divorced from Ed. He didn't really know what difference it made, since she hadn't been with Ed in a while, but there was something about knowing she was divorced that seemed strange to adjust to on top of everything else. She had called herself a free woman. She was free. She was free from Ed, she was free from marriage, but she was really free from everything. She didn't owe anything to anyone.

It had always been that way, but now it seemed even more obvious to Daryl that Carol was free. She could do what she pleased, when she pleased, however she wanted to do it. She was free from him as well. She really didn't owe anything to him and she was free to do what she wanted. She could, just as Merle had said, easily change him out for something that fit her better than he did.

She was taking classes and she and Andrea talked about what they were going to do in the future. They were going to open some kind of place to do hair and things. They were going to become upstanding citizens of Sweet Junction and they were going to do hair for all the women that didn't talk to them much and looked at them funny in the A and P. They were going to change.

And maybe Merle had been right. If they changed and got new jobs, and started talking to different kinds of people, then maybe it would be obvious to them that they didn't need to keep going with the relationships they had. Maybe Daryl wasn't going to be good enough for that Carol. He didn't want her to change, but she was already changing. She was already different than she had been just a few days ago. Maybe the change was just something that couldn't be avoided. He didn't even think she knew it was coming, or that it was already happening.

Daryl went straight to the bathroom and tried to focus on his business there, trying to put all the thoughts of change out of his mind. Carol was asleep still, in the bed with Lincoln. She was the same Carol that she had been and the surrounding was all that was different. At least that's what he kept trying to tell himself. He went to the sink and washed his hands. The soap on the side of the sink was carved into the shape of a flower. He looked around for the normal, white, melting bar that had always been on the sink in the apartment, but it wasn't there.

Daryl picked up the little flower and sniffed at it. It didn't smell bad, and it did smell like soap, but it didn't look like soap. Finally he determined that he had no other option and he lathered the little flower in his hands and dried his hands off on the hand towel.

When he came out of the bathroom, he noticed that Carol was gone, but Lincoln was still snoring in the bed and Carol had tucked the covers around the damn dog like he needed any help sleeping. The damn dog was comfortable anywhere he went. He didn't give a damn where he lived.

Daryl got dressed and came through the house. Carol was at the stove, cooking, and she looked at him and smiled.

"Good morning," she said. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute."

Daryl felt his stomach churn and thought he almost didn't want to eat anything, but he knew his stomach would be gnawing at him if he didn't. He sat down at the table and chewed at his cuticle, thinking over everything. Carol brought him breakfast and sat it down in front of him. Then she returned a few minutes later with her plate and sat there picking at her food while she watched him.

"Daryl, are you sure there's nothing you want to talk to me about?" Carol asked.

Daryl noticed she wasn't eating, so he sped up with his own food, thinking it might make her decide to go ahead and put a dent in breakfast instead of picking at it with her fingers like that. He shook his head.

Carol sighed and continued picking at her food.

"Where's the soap?" Daryl asked finally.

Carol looked at him like he was crazy and then looked at the table. Daryl realized she was trying to figure out how soap related to breakfast. She wasn't as good at hearing what was going on in his head as he was.

"There's some kinda weird lil' flower in the bathroom," Daryl said. "Where's the soap?"

"The flowers are soap, Daryl," Carol said.

"Don't look like soap," he replied.

Carol chuckled a little.

"They're just carved soaps," she said. "Someone gave me a box full of them at the party that Michonne threw. I figured as long as they're there, we might as well use them. They're just soap, though, nothing special."

Daryl didn't point out that he didn't think that soap ought to look like flowers and that to him it was strange having flowers around the sink where soap should be. To Carol, apparently, the flowers were normal. He didn't like them, though. He wished the soap was just the normal soap that she used to have instead of some special soap that someone had thought the house needed…some soap that she said was nothing special, but there had to be something special about it if someone had bothered to carve it into flowers.

Daryl finished his breakfast, anxious to get to work. He needed a cigarette, and he hoped that being outside and getting some fresh air, even if it was laced with the smell of manure, might help him to clear his thoughts.

He carried his plate to the sink and Carol brought hers after him, sitting it on the counter.

"Ya didn't eat ya food," Daryl said. Carol looked at the plate and then looked back at him. She shook her head.

"I'm just not really hungry," she said. "I've got to work at Lula's today, so I'll probably just get dressed and eat it before I leave or get something there."

Daryl nodded a little. Carol wrapped her arms around him and leaned up on her toes and he dipped down, kissing her. He wrapped his arms around her too, after the kiss broke, and stood there for a moment, holding her against him in the kitchen. At least that was the only thing that seemed even halfway familiar right now. Carol felt the same against him and she smelled the same. Daryl smelled her hair for a moment and let his hand rub up and down the soft material of her t shirt. She rooted her face into him and squeezed him.

"Reckon I oughta get ta work," Daryl said, pulling away.

Carol smiled at him. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a paper bag.

"I made you a sandwich," she said, offering it to him. "It's turkey and cheese. I didn't have time yesterday to make chicken salad, but I'm going to make some after work."

Daryl looked in the bag and thanked her for the sandwich. She didn't normally make him sandwiches, and apparently she didn't know that he ate at least two sandwiches and sometimes three if he was hungry enough. He decided not to point it out, though. She might not like it if he told her that one sandwich was just going to be enough to make him see what Hershel was having for lunch.

"You want anything special for dinner?" Carol asked.

Daryl shook his head. He couldn't think of anything. Carol smiled at him and nodded a little.

"OK, then. I'll figure something out. I'll see you when you get home?" She said. Daryl wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement so he just nodded his head and slipped out the door, lighting a cigarette on the way to his truck.

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Carol wasn't sure what was getting to Daryl, but she was determined that one way or the other she was going to figure out how to get him to talk to her and figure out what she could do to make him feel better about it. She was trying everything that she could think of to make him feel like he was part of this, but she didn't know if it was working or not.

She went to work, though, and tried to tell herself that Daryl was just adjusting to the change. She knew that Daryl had, at times, his own way of processing things and that's probably all this was. It was something new to him. He was in a new house, and she wondered if it might bother him that it was her house and not his, and he was away from his brother possibly more than he ever had been before.

Although Carol didn't think Merle was an award winning human being at times, and she wasn't sure that he was always good for Daryl, he was Daryl's brother, and from what she understood, they'd always lived together. Maybe Daryl was just having a hard time adjusting to the fact that Merle wasn't as readily available as he had been when there had only been a hall separating them.

When she got off work, Carol went directly to the A and P. She bought probably more groceries than she had in one stop for a long time. She was going to bake an apple pie, and she also thought that she'd bake cookies so she could pack those in Daryl's lunch bag with his sandwich as just a little something extra.

She bought enough to make chicken salad that would feed the National Guard, and she loaded up on things to make breakfast. At least if she couldn't make Merle appear when Daryl wanted him there, she could make sure that he had things to eat that he liked. Maybe that would be enough to help him settle in and get over whatever was bugging him.

Carol thought about dinner, but she couldn't come up with anything special. Daryl didn't make a lot of requests and that meant that she had to be creative. She wandered around the store for a bit, trying to think of what he might like. Finally, she smiled to herself and remembered the day that she'd ran into him in the store trying to buy the ingredients for a meatloaf that Andrea never made because the meat spoiled in the back of the truck.

Carol didn't know if Daryl had ever gotten his meatloaf after that, but she decided that he'd have it tonight for dinner, and maybe he'd remember that day too. Perhaps a little trip down memory lane would make him feel better and remind him that nothing major had changed.

Just as she was getting ready to check out, she stopped in aisle of the store dedicated to everything you might need around your house from shaving lotion to toilet paper. She plucked a pack of soap off the shelf. Daryl had seemed awful concerned about the flower soaps this morning and if that was going to be something that bothered him, she could get rid of that. She wasn't that fond of them anyway. She could just box up the extra ones and give them to Andrea the next night when they went to one of their classes. Andrea would make Merle use them…she was fine with pushing him around. Carol certainly wasn't going to make Daryl use them if they bothered him enough to bring them up while he was distracted by pancakes and sausage.

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By the time that Daryl got off of work, he'd almost made himself sick. He was glad that he only had one sandwich at lunch because he hadn't really even wanted to eat that one. He'd choked it down, though, and washed it down with a jar of sweet tea, all the while worrying about everything.

He wasn't even happy to see Miss Jo today and when she asked him what was wrong and felt his forehead, he almost wanted to tell her to leave him alone. He was fine. He wasn't really sick. He didn't need people asking him every few minutes what was wrong when there wasn't a damn thing that any of them could do about it.

What was he supposed to say? He wished Carol had never moved out of her apartment? He wished that things were just like they were because they were just like he liked them? When she'd been in the apartment, everything had been comfortable. Nothing changed and she didn't change. She was just the same every single day as she'd been the day before. Everything was always exactly the same. Hell, even Lincoln walked the same damn circles around the same damn trees every morning. Daryl knew how things were going to go when they lived at the apartment.

There weren't surprises at the apartment. Daryl knew that there were such a thing as good surprises, and he liked the outfit that Carol had worn as a surprise for him the night before, but he also knew that there were bad surprises, and in his life most all of the surprises were bad surprises and even if they were good ones, they typically turned into bad things pretty quickly.

The more he thought about it, the more he wasn't even sure if he liked the outfit. Carol had been pretty in it and he'd wanted to be with her, but it wasn't something he was used to with her. Carol didn't dress up and put things on for him to be with her. Usually all he needed was to see her standing there in the holy gray sweatpants she had and one of the oversized t shirts with her hair in a ponytail and he was ready to go. That was comfortable and normal. Carol had looked good the night before, but Carol in that outfit with her hair all done up and her face all painted, that wasn't the Carol that he was used to seeing after work.

It had seemed like a good surprise, but now Daryl was worrying that it was just a good surprise that had the potential to lead to bad surprises and things he didn't want.

Daryl drove directly to the apartment after work. When he got there, he found Andrea on the couch reading some kind of book. She didn't look up immediately when he walked in the door, but she glanced up when he was taking off his shoes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Andrea asked.

"Nice ta see ya too, sunshine," Daryl snapped.

"Sorry, I just wasn't expecting you here," Andrea said.

Daryl looked at her.

"When the fuck did'ja get glasses?" He asked.

"They're reading glasses," Andrea said. "I've been wearing them for years."

"I ain't never seen ya fuckin' wearin' 'em," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled.

"You haven't seen me read much, either. I'm studying for class tomorrow, though. What are you doing here?" Andrea repeated.

"I'm gettin' ready ta take a fuckin' shower, that's what I'm doin'," Daryl said.

Andrea looked at him and Daryl decided he didn't like her with glasses no right now either. She could say that she'd worn them for years but he'd never noticed in the time that he knew her.

"Did something happen to give you this piss poor attitude?" Andrea called as Daryl walked toward the bathroom. "Or is it just my pretty face that inspires it?"

"Fuck you! I don't wanna talk right now so read ya stupid book with ya stupid ass glasses," Daryl responded, closing the bathroom door.

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Daryl lie on the bed looking up at the ceiling in what they liked to call his room. This wasn't his room, though. He had no ties whatsoever to this room. This room didn't mean a single damn thing to him. Daryl didn't really feel like he had a room right now. He had some space. He had a space here in what was Carol's apartment that Andrea and Merle were living in. He had some space at Carol's new house for the time being. That was really it all it was. He had space at places where he didn't really belong.

Daryl was distracted when Andrea knocked on the door and walked into the room. She stood over him for a moment.

"Ya s'posed ta fuckin' wait 'til someone says come in," Daryl said.

"Well, you're being an ass, so I figured we could make it a family affair," Andrea said. She sat down on the edge of the bed. "So what the hell's going on?"

"Ain't nothin' goin' on so why don't'cha go worry 'bout ya own damn shit," Daryl said.

"Believe it or not, Daryl, your shit is my shit," Andrea said. "Because if you've got shit…then your shit just trickles out and runs all over my shit. So why don't you tell me what the hell is going on and then we can both have a nice, shit free existence."

"Fuck you," Daryl said.

Andrea smiled.

"That's not your job," she said. "Let's start this the easy way. Carol called about a half hour ago to see if I'd heard from you because you were supposed to be there and not here. So let's start with the fucking obvious question, Daryl, why are you here and not there and why wouldn't you talk to Carol when I told you she was on the phone?"

"That's two fuckin' questions," Daryl responded.

Andrea chuckled.

"Well we know who got the brains in the family," she replied. "Humor me and answer both of them."

"I ain't gotta fuckin' be there if I don't wanna be there," Daryl said.

"Fair enough," Andrea said. "Would you rather be here than there?"

Daryl didn't respond.

"Why wouldn't you talk to her? Did something happen?" Andrea asked.

"A whole damn lotta shit's happened, or ain't'cha been fuckin' payin' attention?" Daryl said.

"See, I know when something is eating you because you turn into mini Merle," Andrea said. "You don't act like Merle unless something is on your mind. And I'm going to tell you something, Daryl, it doesn't look good on you. It doesn't look good on Merle and it certainly doesn't look good on you."

Daryl rolled his eyes.

"What happened?" Andrea asked. "I want specifics because I got Carol's side already so tell me what the hell is your side."

"I ain't got no damn side," Daryl said. "Carol's bein' who the hell she wants ta be an' I'm bein' who the hell I wanna be. Ain't no damn side ta that."

"So you're just here, hanging out in this room, being who the hell you want to be, am I right?" Andrea asked.

Daryl grunted at her.

"I thought you wanted to be Hershel Greene," Andrea said. "Or at least that you wanted to be_ like_ Hershel Greene."

"Yeah, well I ain't like him," Daryl responded.

Andrea sat there a moment and then shook her head.

"No, Daryl, you're not like him. I don't think Hershel Greene would tell Miss Jo he was coming home and then not show up. I don't think he wouldn't answer the phone when she called because she worried that he might have run off the road somewhere, and I don't think Hershel Greene would turn down some of Miss Jo's homemade meat loaf in favor of eating pizza with an asshole like Merle Dixon," Andrea said. "So, no, Daryl, you're not like Hershel Greene at all."

Daryl rolled his eyes at her.

"Talk to me," Andrea said. "We made this deal already. You got to call me a whore and in exchange you have to talk to me."

"I'd like ta call ya a whole damn lot more'n a whore," Daryl said.

"I'll wait," Andrea said.

"Everythin's changin'," Daryl said. "Ain't nothin' like it was an' it's just gonna keep right on changin'. I ain't Hershel Greene an' Carol ain't Miss Jo, an' if she is she ain't mine 'cause she's just gonna find some other damn person ta be her fuckin' Hershel Greene, so I ain't waitin' 'round for her ta tell me ta hit the bricks."

Andrea sat there quietly a minute.

"Have you been talking to Merle?" Andrea asked.

Daryl didn't respond.

"I told you, Daryl, the number one rule in life is don't take advice from Merle," Andrea continued. "So what? So things are changing? Big fuckin' deal! They change all the fucking time! Didn't shit change when I moved in?"

"Yeah but I don't give a damn about you," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled.

"Thank you, and I promise I'm looking into having that put on a Christmas card…" She responded. "Point is, Daryl, that things change but that doesn't mean that it's a bad thing. Didn't things change when you met Carol? That wasn't a bad change, was it?"

"Seems like a pretty bad thing ta me," Daryl said.

"You don't mean that," Andrea said. "You've been breaking the rules and listening to Merle, but you don't mean that. If you're scared of change, fine, everyone is scared of change, but you don't run from it. It's ridiculous to think that you're here right now because of what? Because you think Carol might want someone else in her life? So what the hell does that mean, Daryl? She might want someone else and it pisses you off bad enough that you come over here trying to act like Merle? You ran away because you're scared you're going to be asked to leave?"

"Ya don't fuckin' get it, so stop tryin' ta pretend ya understand me. Go read ya fuckin' hair book," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled.

"Daryl, it's honesty time. What do you want to happen with Carol?" Andrea asked.

Daryl chewed at his cuticle. He shrugged a little.

"I know what she wants," Andrea said. "She wants to be Hershel and Josephine Greene. She wants to be Dale and Irma Horvath. She wants every cheesy, ridiculous fucking Hallmark movie she's ever seen in her life. So what do you want?"

"She don't want it with me," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled again.

"So tell me, Merle Junior, how did you arrive at that conclusion? Did she tell you that?" Andrea asked.

"Don't gotta," Daryl said.

Andrea growled.

"Daryl, I'm trying really hard right this minute to keep from hitting you in the head with that lamp over there. You don't know what she wants or doesn't want if you don't talk to her. I'm going to be real honest with you right now…you need to find your fucking balls and you need to tell her what you want, because if you don't, she might not wait around forever. You might end up being right, and she might find someone else for her dream, but it's going to be your damn fault if you just sit back and let it happen. Now you can listen to me or not, but I'm telling the truth," Andrea said, speaking mostly through clenched teeth.

Daryl looked at her, but didn't respond.

Andrea sighed and pinched at her nose.

"You know what? Fine…you want to fuck shit up and throw away your chance to have what you want out of life, who am I to stand in your fucking way? Go ahead, throw it all away. Make a new dream for yourself, though, Daryl. One where you're all by your fucking self, right the fuck there with your brother. And when you're both fucking alone and your both crying to each other about it, I want you to both know you did it your fucking selves and it happened just the way you wanted it to," Andrea said, standing up.

"Ya done?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," Andrea said, somewhat defeated. "Yeah, Daryl, I think I'm pretty much done. If you change your mind, though, do me a favor, do you think you could do that?"

"Fuck ya want?" Daryl asked.

"Well, you seem to want advice, but you keep taking it from Merle and you won't listen to me…" Andrea said. "So how about, if you think you might want some real advice…talk to Hershel Greene. If anyone could tell you how to be Hershel Greene, and how to keep from fucking up things with Miss Jo…maybe he's the best one to ask. I bet he'd be willing to listen."

Andrea didn't say anything else. She turned and left the room with a sigh, closing the door behind her.


	56. Chapter 56

**AN: OK, this is number four…I think…**

**It's really funny working from notes like this because you realize as you write how much you thought you'd put in that you don't, how much you didn't intend to happen that does. You have a plan, but the plan only gets you so far before the story just keeps doing what it's going to do. **

**Here goes, though. Thank you all for your feedback so far! By the way, your Daryl comments are pretty much cracking me up right now. LOL**

**I hope you enjoy!**

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Carol switched off the alarm on her nightstand. She couldn't really say that she woke up since that would imply that she'd been sleeping, and she hadn't done much of that. She reached over and wrapped her arm around Lincoln, tugging him toward her. The dog responded in pretty much the only way that he could and he rolled over, his feet in the air, offering her his belly to rub. At least she knew that he was sleeping because he snored louder than she thought a dog of his stature could.

Carol lie there a moment, groaning into the side of the dog's face while he lie on his back and patiently awaited the belly rub that he thought she had rolled him over for.

It was the fourth morning that she woke up without Daryl there, the fourth morning that she hadn't had any contact with him at all and it was killing her. She couldn't wrap her mind around how he could just disappear like he did, but it seemed like he had.

Clearly, he couldn't just vanish, but he'd gone to Merle and Andrea's and that was where he was staying. Carol had tried calling, but he wouldn't take the calls. She'd even gone over there once, but Merle had said that Andrea wasn't home and Daryl didn't want to see anyone. What had hurt most was that she'd known that anyone in this case was code for her.

Carol asked Andrea what was going on and if she had any indication what she'd done or how to undo it, but Andrea had responded by telling her that Daryl was freaked out by all the change and that he'd made the near fatal mistake of listening to Merle and apparently thinking that anything that Merle said had some merit to it.

Carol got out of bed, scratching Lincoln's belly for a second so the poor thing didn't look at her like he was as heartbroken as she felt. She had to work at Lula's Diner today and it was the last damn thing she wanted to do. She'd been dragging herself through the last few days simply trying to go hour by hour somehow figure out what she might do to change things.

Carol washed her face and looked in the mirror. There wasn't really much hiding how she felt about the situation. Anyone who wasn't legally blind should be able to tell that crying was of high priority and sleeping was of very low priority in her world at the moment. This entire thing with Daryl had her about as stressed as she could remember being in a very long time and it was taking its toll on her.

She chuckled a little at her reflection in the mirror and went about getting dressed for work. Everything that she'd been through with Ed, all the mess that had been her life and she wanted to kick herself for letting Daryl get to her like this. This wasn't who she wanted to be any more than the woman who had stared back at her with black eyes and busted lips all those years. She'd put up with so much and now here she was stressed beyond belief over another man, to the point that she was allowing the stress to take a physical effect on her body.

Carol didn't bother combing her hair out. She ran her fingers through the curls on her way to the kitchen and otherwise figured it would be fine. It wasn't like it was going to do anything spectacular anyway and she was working at Lula's Diner, not trying to win some kind of Miss America pageant.

Carol was thankful that whoever had bought her a coffee pot got her one with a timer because the coffee was ready for her when she got there. She figured, if she was correct, that coffee was about all she'd been living off of for the past few days and she thought that by now if she didn't drink it she might anger some coffee god or something that might smash some other part of her life that she thought was going decently well.

Carol rattled the top of the cookie jar as she leaned on the counter and sipped out of her mug. Lincoln came running, probably confused because she hadn't let him out yet. She took one of the milk bones out of the jar and gave it to him and tucked it his mouth and looked at her like he was awaiting permission to eat it.

"You get one just for waking up, how's that?" She said to the dog. She walked to the door and let Lincoln out in the yard where he immediately sat down to eat his mysteriously earned treat before he started on his rounds.

Carol walked back to the window and looked out, mentally reminding herself to get her jacket because it was cold and she'd nearly frozen in Lula's the last time she was working. She finished about half the cup of coffee and headed back to the bedroom to get her shoes and brush her teeth. She figured she might as well head into work and get it over with so she could come home and ball up on the couch in her new customary position with Lincoln.

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"New customer," Jacqui said, still leaning on the bar. Carol was pretending to care about what she was doing and rearranging the pastries in the case, but mostly she was just wishing she could go home early. She considered telling Lula that she was sick and needed the rest of the day off. It wasn't entirely a lie…she did feel pretty sick…but having the day off wouldn't make it any better.

"You want me to get it?" Carol asked with very little enthusiasm.

"I don't feel like dealing with new people," Jacqui said. "You've got to make too much conversation and I'm not in the mood. If you'll take care of him I'll do all the sugar and the condiments today so you can leave earlier."

Carol knew that Jacqui was down because her mother wasn't doing very well and she'd been spending most of her time off work over at the home trying to look after her. Carol assumed that Jacqui's reason for being tired, antisocial, and in an overall bad mood trumped hers so she decided the offer was fair enough.

"I got it," Carol said with a sigh. She went around the counter and worked on trying to make her face perform the annoying act of smiling before she got to the table where the young man was sitting. He was a new face, and those just weren't all that common. "Welcome to Lula's Diner," Carol said, trying to be as perky as possible. "What can I get you to drink?"

The man looked around and then looked at her, smiling.

"I guess I'll just have a Coke," he said. "Where are the menus?"

Carol chuckled a little. A sure sign of a newcomer was that they expected a menu at Lula's.

"We don't have menus," Carol said.

The man looked befuddled. He laughed a little.

"I don't mean to sound dense, ma'am, but how am I supposed to know what I want to eat if I don't have a menu?" He asked.

"It's OK," Carol said. "I know, it's an odd practice. We hardly get anyone in here who hasn't been eating at Lula's since she just served one dish per meal. You didn't need a menu back then because you simply ate what was being served. Now our staff can pretty much handle anything, so if it's not too tricky you just order it and we get it to you."

The man chuckled again and shook his head a little.

"That's a whole lot of possibility," he said. "I might need me a minute or two to think on that one."

Carol smiled. The man was cute, and he was about the sunniest person that had come through the doors so far today.

"I'll get your Coke," she said. "You think on it and I'll be back in a minute."

The man nodded and Carol walked around back to fix his drink.

"Who is he?" Jacqui asked.

"Now how am I supposed to know that?" Carol asked, stopping with the foaming glass in her hand.

"Ask him," Jacqui said. "Haven't you lived in Sweet Junction long enough to know you don't pass up the opportunity to get the information on any new comers?"

"You're the one who didn't want the table," Carol reminded her.

"I don't want the table," Jacqui said. "I just want the information. Besides, the nicer you are to him the bigger the tip you get…and the more I find out about him. Not like there's anybody really in here to care about."

Carol glanced around the restaurant. At best the group that was there was a staggered group. The early lunch group was gone for the most part, a few of the late lunch group were finally eating, and one or two non-regular faces were mixed in the crowd. Everyone was served, and no one looked like they would have cared if Jacqui and Carol had both simply left the diner.

Carol circled back around and painted on her smile before reaching the table and putting the drink down. The man thanked her and she offered him a straw.

"No thanks," he said.

"So did you figure out what you would like?" Carol asked.

The young man sat back a moment, looking around. He smiled at her.

"If it wouldn't be too forward of me, I'd like to know your name," the man said.

Carol smiled.

"I'm Carol," she said. "We don't wear name tags either. In Sweet Junction everybody already knows you so it's not like you have to identify yourself."

The man chuckled.

"I'm Axel," he said. "And I'm not from Sweet Junction."

"You see," Carol said. "_That_ I already knew. Welcome, Axel. What brought you here?"

"Transferred to the steel mill in the next town," Axel said.

"My grandfather worked there for over fifty years," Carol said.

"Not a bad living," Axel said. "I wasn't expecting to get transferred, but there was some whole big shift in management or something. So anyway, here I am now. They said there was some nice housing here and I've got a stipend just burning a hole in my pocket to get me out of motels. So I thought I'd come and check it out. There's a nice little development going in here."

Carol nodded.

"Yes there is. I just bought a house out there. I'm still getting good and settled in," she said.

"Really?" Axel asked. Carol nodded. "The prices seem fair. Are you happy with the house?"

Carol nodded.

"It's a great little house, it really is," she said.

"I talked to the man that's running the operation," Axel said. "Actually that's where I just come from. What's his name? Tyrell or something?"

"Tyreese," Carol said.

"Nice guy," Axel said. "Said they got some houses that are going to be ready within the week."

Carol nodded.

"I know him," she said. "He's dating one of my best friends."

"Small world," Axel said with a chuckle.

"Always is in Sweet Junction," Carol said.

"Well, I'm going to keep the place in mind. I looked at the houses, but you know how it is. It's always hard to tell if you'll like or not when it's partially put together and you can't imagine what it will actually be like with a week's worth of dishes in the sink and your dirty clothes piled up in the bathroom," Axel said, chuckling.

"Well if you're interested," Carol said, "I'd be happy to let you see my house sometime. I don't have that many dishes in the sink, but it's looking lived in. Tyreese would probably give you a tour of his too. He lives in the neighborhood."

"I didn't think to ask him about that," Axel said. "Might be a good idea to help me make up my mind. There's another subdivision going in near the mill, but I don't like the area very much. It's just not a nice town."

Carol shook her head. She knew the area well and she wouldn't want to live in it given pretty much any other option.

"No, it's not nearly as nice. You have more of a drive to work, but if you want a good neighborhood then it's worth it," Carol said.

Axel chuckled.

"Who knows," he said, "we might be neighbors before too long…I still got to think on it, though, before I go making any big decisions."

"I understand," Carol said. "Buying a house is a big deal…after all, I just did it. How about lunch? We'll start with small decisions first. What do you think you might want to eat?"

Axel shrugged.

"Honestly with all this housing mess I can't even think straight," he said. "What do you recommend?"

"Breakfast or lunch?" Carol asked.

Axel thought for a minute.

"Lunch," he said.

"Cheeseburger," Carol said. Axel smiled and nodded his head.

"If that's what the lady recommends, I'll give it a try," he said. "Your judgment on lunch might give me some insight into your judgment on housing."

Carol smiled at him and told him she'd be back with his order before disappearing around back to put it in.

"So?" Jacqui asked when Carol leaned against the counter to wait for the order to be prepared.

"His name is Axel and he's here with the steel mill. He's looking at houses in my development and he doesn't wash his dishes on a regular basis," Carol said, propping her head on her hand.

"That means he's single," Jacqui said. "And he's cute, too."

Carol rolled her eyes at Jacqui.

"And I don't care," she said.

"He was flirting with you," Jacqui said, smiling for the first time that morning.

"Don't care," Carol said.

"He's looking at houses…just like your house…in your neighborhood. You like the same kind of lifestyle," Jacqui said.

"Don't care," Carol singsonged back to her with the same general tone of voice.

"Did I mention he's cute?" Jacqui asked.

"Did I mention I don't care?" Carol responded.

Jacqui sighed.

"Mmm…mmmm…Carol," Jacqui said. "You've been a mess around her and for what? Some little boy that doesn't know when he's got a good thing? I hate to know you were woman enough to take your life back from Ed just to let some little jackass fuck it up again."

"Don't call him that," Carol said.

"That's exactly what I'm gonna call him," Jacqui said. "Until you can explain to me what's happening that doesn't sound like we're talking about a five year old who's mad about some paste in art class, that's what I'm going to call him."

Carol rolled her eyes. Although much of her was inclined to agree with Jacqui, and she felt sorry for the woman for having to listen to her complaints during nearly all of their downtime…which Lula's provided a good deal of…she didn't want anyone calling Daryl a jackass for this. She might think it, but she didn't want to hear it from others. Carol wasn't entirely sure what was wrong with Daryl or what she'd done to make him be done with her, but that aside she didn't think he was a jackass.

He probably had some insecurities…some issues. He hadn't had the best life and she probably hadn't been sensitive to something that he needed from her. She didn't know what had run him off, and she honestly didn't know if he'd ever be back, but she didn't hate him, and she didn't want others putting him down.

"He's not a jackass," Carol said.

"Then you tell me what to call him," Jacqui said.

Carol sighed. She heard the bell in the back ding to tell her to come for the plate.

"I don't know, Jacqui…I don't understand him well enough to know what to call him," Carol said. She went to the back and picked up the plate.

"Then I'm going to call him a confusing jackass," Jacqui said, leaning back on the counter and watching Carol. "I hope that's a little bit better."

Carol sighed and took the plate to Axel's table.

"Need anything else?" She asked.

Axel smiled at her and then looked around the table.

"I don't think so…" he said.

"Well you just let me know if you do," Carol said.

"Thanks, Carol, I'll do that," Axel said.

Carol nodded at him and went back around the counter where Jacqui was probably waiting to taunt her some more about the fact that she'd let Daryl get to her and make her feel the way she did. She could agree that it was ridiculous, but she wasn't sure that she knew how to get out of the slump. She thought that perhaps it was just all coming together. The stress about leaving Ed, the divorce and the drama, the new house, the big changes, and now the utter confusion over the very sudden and very unexpected end to what she thought was a good relationship. It was just too much for her.

"I can tell you one thing," Carol said when she took her place beside Jacqui again.

"What?" Jacqui asked.

"What I need is not another man in my life," Carol said. "What I need is drugs."

Jacqui chuckled.

"That's how they all go bad," Jacqui said.

"I'm serious," Carol said. "I was thinking about seeing about getting some anti-depressants or something. Something to get back on my feet. Once I'm over all this mess then I won't have to worry with them anymore. Or do you think that makes me sound crazy?"

Jacqui shook her head.

"When my father died I took some kind of happy pills for a while," Jacqui said. "I don't think it means you're crazy, I think it means you're sane enough to know when you don't feel like you should."

"Did they help?" Carol asked.

"They don't mend a broken heart, if that's what you're asking," Jacqui said. "You still gotta deal with that on your own, but they did help me with the not wanting to get out of bed in the morning feelings and with the moods where I didn't care if I ate or starved. They helped handle that so I could focus on the broken heart."

"That's about all I need then, I guess," Carol said. "Just something to make me focus on what I need to do to get over all this mess. Something to take some of the stress away."

"And if all else fails," Jacqui said, "there's always other alternatives."

Carol looked at her.

"I'm just saying that Miss Watkins out there has a very nice garden, and everyone in town likes to stop by and admire her greenhouses," Jacqui said.

Carol realized all too suddenly what the woman was suggesting.

"Jacqui! Are you serious? She's got to be a hundred years old!" Carol said.

Jacqui laughed.

"And the happiest old woman you'll ever see," Jacqui said. "Don't look so scandalized. I've seen your friend Andrea out there more than a time or two when I was paying a visit to the old lady. Go to the doctor, get your pills, but if they don't work…I know something else that will, and you still haven't stopped by my house to see my new projects."


	57. Chapter 57

**AN: Update five for anyone not trying to get lost…**

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Daryl stomped across the pasture and back toward the barn, the hay hooks gripped in his hands. His mood had been sour for days and it was only getting progressively worse. Andrea thought that he should talk to Hershel about how he was feeling, but he wasn't exactly sure what she wanted him to say or expected him to say.

He'd tried about fifty different ways in his head to approach the old man and tell him about what had happened with Carol, but most of the ways just came off to him sounding confused because he still wasn't sure what was happening.

Carol was living her life. She was doing her thing. She was free to be who she wanted to be and do what she wanted to do. The big difference, what Andrea was missing was that Daryl wasn't Hershel and Carol wasn't Miss Jo. There wasn't any changing going on there. They were exactly the same today as they'd been the day that Daryl had first gotten his job at the farm. Nothing was different. As far as Daryl could tell the only that changed about either one of them was the clothes that they wore. That was it.

Carol had stopped calling now, and stopped coming by the apartment. She'd moved on. Daryl figured she was going to move on eventually, so it might as well be now instead of later. At least she wasn't getting rid of him this way. He didn't have to feel like she upgraded him or cast him off like the random items that she gave Andrea when she'd moved out of the apartment. He didn't have to wait for her to box him and pass him off to someone. Daryl thought that it might be a good idea to let Lincoln know what to expect. He was, after all, a hound dog with a tendency to drool and smell a little funny. She may very well decide eventually that he wasn't the kind of dog to fit her new lifestyle.

Daryl stopped outside the barn and leaned against the doorframe, dropping the hooks to the ground and wiping his face with his shirt. It was getting chilly, but he was working as hard as his muscles would allow him to work in order to keep his mind busy, and as a result he was already exhausted and sweaty even though he still had probably ten more hay bales to move before he even thought about what might be next on the agenda.

Daryl fished a cigarette out of his pocket, fingered it for a moment and then lit it, leaning back against the frame and relaxing for just a moment.

He could hear the sound of voices drifting through the barn and he knew by now it was Hershel's oldest daughter, Maggie, hiding up there to talk with her little Korean boyfriend where no one was going to be paying them any attention. Daryl had been privy to more than one of their boring conversations. They seemed to be under the false assumption that as long as they were hidden up there, out of sight, they were also out of earshot for anyone down in the bottom of the barn, but that wasn't true at all. He also knew the little fuckers were up there making out like it was the bleachers at a high school football game. If Hershel didn't know what they were doing, then he was pretty much clueless.

Daryl eavesdropped on their conversation for something to do more than out of any genuine interest. The little Korean kid, who Daryl hadn't even learned the name of yet, was a bigger gossip than half the women that Daryl had met in his life, and that included everyone he'd had the pleasure of getting to know in the thriving metropolis of Sweet Junction. He could only hear parts of their conversation, but for free and unsought entertainment, that was as good as it got.

"You wouldn't talk to him either," he heard Maggie say. "…like some kind of ogre."

"Well, I'm just telling you I heard it," Glenn said.

"Who said it though…" Maggie responded. "…crosses their lips is usually a lie. Daddy hasn't said anything."

Daryl realized that the boy said was always louder than Maggie. When their conversations was really good, it made Daryl wish that he was in some kind of strange habit of repeating everything that Maggie said. Daryl could only figure it was because Maggie had siblings, and she was probably used to trying to keep them from hearing everything she said. He didn't know about the boy, but the boy didn't seem to mind being loud.

"Nobody said it, Maggie," Glenn responded. "I was right there in Lula's myself when Carol asked the guy to come to her house."

"Fine, Glenn…" Maggie responded, a little louder because she was responding, apparently to his annoyed tone, "…broke up or something? Who is he?"

Daryl's interest was more than piqued at the moment. He wasn't sure he believed what he'd just heard. Carol had asked a man to her house? Who was Carol asking to her house? Daryl wondered if there was more than one Carol that worked at Lula's. He'd never heard her say anything, but he supposed that stranger things had happened. He strained his ears, trying to hear more, but the conversation was so broken up that he couldn't hear anything that clearly identified if he'd heard correctly or if he'd only made it up.

Part of Daryl made him want to climb right up the hay loft ladder right now and demand that the Korean kid, Glenn apparently, tell him every damn thing he knew about this. Daryl had figured that Carol was moving on, that she had some intention to upgrade him to someone bigger and better, but he hadn't expected it to feel like a blow when he heard about it.

Now his head was spinning and he didn't even know who it was that Carol was inviting to her house. Some man in Lula's but he didn't know if she already knew him or if he was some random man. Daryl finished his cigarette and snubbed it out in the dirt by the barn door. He didn't know why he felt the way he did, but he was caught somewhere between feeling like he wanted to part company with the contents of his stomach and feeling like he wanted to punch someone.

Daryl picked up the hay hooks off the ground where he'd dropped them and stormed into the barn. He hooked one of the bales off the pile and heaved it up, heading back across the farm. At least all these stupid ass feelings were good for something. They gave him some energy that he could use to get his fucking work done. Apparently that's what he was good for…doing menial labor on some farm. There really wasn't anything else for him to worry about since everyone else seemed to be doing just fucking fine with their lives.

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Michonne had to admit that she was getting worried about Carol. She hadn't really heard from her much since the entire thing with Daryl had happened. In fact, Michonne wasn't really sure that she understood what had happened with Daryl. The explanation that she'd received with Carol had come with a healthy side of sobs and sides of stories that were almost impossible to follow. Michonne had never been good at putting really complicated puzzles together, and this was a nightmare of an auditory puzzle.

Andrea wasn't exactly of assistance either. Michonne had actually cornered Andrea one night outside the Korean restaurant she worked at most days and asked her if she could possibly shed some light on what had happened. Andrea had been exasperated and told her something that involved the probability that she's serve jail time for the domestic abuse she was planning against the Dixon brothers.

So really all Michonne had to go on here was that whatever it was…whether it had been an official break up or something a little different…it had happened suddenly. It had also apparently happened with either little or no explanation given from the guilty party, who at the moment Michonne identified as Daryl, but she wouldn't have staked her life on it given the confusing comments that had been made from one person or the other.

Despite the details, though, or lack thereof, what was absolutely clear was that Carol was not handling the situation well. She didn't want to talk about it, which had translated into she didn't want to talk to anyone. She'd cancelled babysitting for Michonne for about a week and a half, choosing instead to either stay home or work elsewhere, Michonne wasn't really sure which, and she'd been hiding out whenever Michonne called.

So when Michonne got a phone call from Carol asking her come by the house after work, she'd decided to do one better. She took the rest of the day off and drove directly to Carol's house, afraid that she might be talking her friend out of some major life altering decision.

When Michonne came through the door, she found Carol on the couch with Lincoln, wrapped up in a quilt. Michonne walked in, dropping her keys on the counter and then she stood, leaning against the counter and facing the couch.

"You're not supposed to be off work yet," Carol said from the couch.

"You were supposed to be at work too," Michonne said. "So we're both guilty parties here. What's up?"

She almost felt like it was a stupid question. She knew that being wrapped up on the couch with the dog was only one step away from being in the bathtub with everything she owned in some kind of pathetic shrine to the collapse of her dreams. Michonne shook her head.

"Why him?" Michonne asked.

"What?" Carol asked.

"Why do you let Daryl do this to you? This isn't the first time that he's done something and I hate to say it but he has a shitty track record for such a short run of things. After everything you've been through with Ed. Everything that you have picked yourself up from and overcome…you're going to let some inbred, half brained, slow witted redneck drag your ass through the mud?" Michonne was surprised at the heat that was boiling up inside of her but right this moment she wasn't sure which one of them she wanted to go to prison for murdering. She was starting to think that she might kill both Carol _and_ Daryl and consider it a two for one deal when she got there.

Carol sat up a little and Lincoln groaned and rolled backwards. She slumped back down, resting her head on top of the dog that didn't seem to notice.

"I didn't go to work today because I was dying," Carol said. "So I thought it was a better idea to die in peace at home instead of on the floor at Lula's."

Carol picked up the edge of her blanket and wiped at her nose. Michonne grimaced. She sighed and walked through the house, coming back a few minutes later carrying a roll of toilet paper out of the bathroom. She pulled one of the dining room tables into the living room and sat a few feet away from Carol, staring at her, her elbows on her legs, and her face resting in her hands.

"OK, so you're dying?" Michonne asked. "Was it happening today? Because now that I'm off work I can wait."

Carol groaned and pulled her blanket over her head. Michonne got up and walked into the kitchen. The place was a little messier than she would have expected for Carol. There were several dirty coffee mugs so she moved them to the sink. On the counter there was an empty bag of barbecue chips and an empty half gallon jug that had apparently once held chocolate milk.

"Are you saving your garbage for something or can I throw it away?" Michonne called. There was no response from the lump that had once been her friend, so she assumed that Carol had gone through with her plan to die. She picked up the trash and threw it in the garbage can under the sink. "Carol, did you eat all those chips and drink that chocolate milk?" Michonne called. "Because if you did, I think I can diagnose why you're going to die."

"Not all of it," the lump responded.

"Thank goodness for small things," Michonne said, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Lincoln had some too," Carol said.

Michonne came back into the living room and sat back in her chair.

"Carol, the dog shouldn't have chips and milk, and neither should you, for that matter," Michonne said.

Carol flipped the blanket back.

"That milk smelled bad," Michonne said.

"Lincoln ate the chips," Carol said. "And I drank the milk…and it didn't smell bad when I drank it. That was days ago."

"OK, so you lived through that…what's up then?" Michonne asked.

Carol groaned and wrapped her arms around the dog, pulling him over her body and flipping him to the other side of the couch. She rolled with him, leaving her back to Michonne.

"Carol, please don't shake that dog up like that," Michonne said. "If he ate all those chips he's probably going to hurl."

"Already did," Carol said. "He's dying too. We want to go together."

Michonne chuckled a little, trying to choke it back.

"You have a flair for drama, did you know that?" Michonne asked. "Are you actually dying or do we just need to get you up and moving around?"

"I went to the doctor," Carol said. "Because I'm dying…except he said I wasn't dying."

"Why am I not surprised?" Michonne asked.

Carol looked back over her shoulder at Michonne.

"He said I'm pregnant," Carol said. "Apparently for five whole weeks I've been pregnant. That makes me the worst mother in the history of the world because for five whole weeks I didn't even know I had a kid."

Michonne sat there for a minute, the smile at Carol's dramatic flair gone.

"Shit…" Michonne said. "Have you told anyone?"

"You and Lincoln," Carol said, "and Lincoln didn't seem to care."

Carol sat up, then, scooting down the couch and sitting normally on it. Michonne thought she looked terrible, but now she could understand. She was probably freaking out about the whole thing.

"We'll figure it out," Michonne said. "I'm so sorry…" She didn't know what to say in this situation. Her situation with Dean had been a pretty sucky situation, but it had been a different one altogether.

"Why are you sorry?" Carol asked. She got up then and headed toward the kitchen. When she opened the refrigerator, Lincoln perked up and ran down his steps and through the house. Michonne got up and followed her.

"Aren't you crying on the couch because you're pregnant and Daryl's disappeared?" Michonne asked. "Or was there another chapter that I missed to the novel?"

Carol walked around the kitchen and pulled something off the island. She brought it over and dropped a folder in front of Michonne.

"Yeah? It's a folder from the doctor," Michonne said, reading the front of it. She'd seen a billion of them.

Carol opened it up and pulled out an ultrasound photo. She put it on the counter and pointed at it.

"That little spot right there, that's my baby," Carol said. Michonne nodded a little. She'd seen these things before and frankly they didn't look like anything, not even when they were her own children. "And there's no heartbeat. I'm supposed to go back next week. They said six weeks and then they said five weeks, and then they told me to come back."

"OK…" Michonne said.

Carol went back to the refrigerator and this time she actually came out with something. It was a carton of juice. Michonne started to suggest she consider drinking from a glass, but Carol was already drinking out of the carton and she decided it probably wasn't the first time. Carol walked back over and handed Michonne one of the booklets out of it.

"I've got two of these at home," Michonne said.

Carol turned the pages and smashed the book flat before returning her interest to her juice.

"Says right there that the majority of miscarriages happen before twelve weeks and the chances are greater if you've already miscarried," Carol said. She left the carton where it was and walked back to the living room, sitting on the couch again.

Michonne walked around.

"So you're not upset that you're pregnant…you're upset because they gave you a pamphlet that says that you, like every other woman in the world, might miscarry before twelve weeks?" Michonne asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Higher chances," Carol said.

Michonne chuckled, everything starting to sink in a little.

"Carol, I think they mean miscarried on your own. Being pushed down a flight of stairs isn't what they're really talking about. And they give those pamphlets to everyone. I have two of them. I took Anjelica with me and they gave me one when I was pregnant with Celine…and I was ten weeks pregnant and hadn't even figured it out," Michonne said. "What I'm worried about is when are you going to tell Daryl?"

Carol shrugged.

"I'm not," she said. "He doesn't like change…in fact, he dislikes it so much that it makes him not even want to be with me. This is a pretty good change…" Carol sat there for a minute and Michonne stared at her, trying to figure out what to say or what to do. "He freaked out about soap," Carol said. "If he can't handle soap what the hell is he going to do with a baby? I'm not saying anything."

"How did this even happen?" Michonne asked.

Carol shrugged.

"You've got two kids," she said. "Still haven't figured it out?"

Michonne rolled her eyes.

"I meant how did it happen as in did you use protection or what?" Michonne corrected.

Carol shrugged again.

"I don't know…I missed something or something…I don't know, Michonne," Carol said. "Does it really matter?"

Michonne sighed.

"I guess not, but you've got to tell him. It's his baby," Michonne said.

"Correction," Carol said. "It's my baby and it doesn't even have a heartbeat."

"That'll come later," Michonne said. "But he's the father."

"No one can actually prove that," Carol said. "Could be divine intervention or something."

"I don't understand, Carol," Michonne said. "Sorry, and I'm trying to be delicate, but you look like shit. Yet you're telling me that you're only upset because you think you might not have the baby…not because you might end up with a baby…and you're telling me that you don't want to tell Daryl? Did you fall or hit your head?"

Carol looked like she might cry.

"I _want_ the baby," she said. "I cried the whole time they were examining me because I couldn't believe that I was going to have a baby. The nurse kept trying to comfort me and no one understood that I was _happy_. And then there's no heartbeat and they said it's OK, but that's what they were looking for in the first place. And Daryl doesn't care and he doesn't need to feel like he has to care because I don't _need_ him to care."

Michonne stood there, her arms crossed.

"I look like shit because I can't sleep. I look like shit because I've figured out that whatever I put into my mouth I'm allowed to keep for about thirty minutes if it's liquid…maybe forty five…and if it's not liquid it has a much shorter shelf life," Carol said.

"OK," Michonne said. "We're going to figure this out…it's not a big deal, right? We're just going to rationally figure this out. You're coming to my house, just for the night, and you're going to get some sleep even if I have to sit in there and recite Fox in Socks to you until you fall asleep. Then tomorrow we're calling Andrea, and we're going to talk about this like rational adults. Can we do that?"

Carol nodded.

"Good," Michonne said. "Let's get your stuff together."

Michonne had a headache that was beginning to develop. She waited while Carol packed a small bag. From her state of mind, Michonne wasn't sure what was going to be in the bag, but she figured they'd sort that out later. She figured that she could talk to Andrea about this, find out what the Dixon men felt about paternity, and maybe figure out how to solve the great big stinking mess that Daryl and Carol had created together when left unattended for a few hours.

When Carol was finally ready to go, Michonne started out the door. Carol followed Lincoln around, finally hooking his leash.

"Can't he stay here tonight?" Michonne asked.

Carol stood up, the leash in one hand and the bag thrown over her shoulder. Michonne realized that lack of food and sleep had the ability to make her friend take on the overall appearance of a five year old.

"If Lincoln stays, I'm staying," Carol said. "He hasn't left me and I'm not leaving him."

Michonne thought she might point out that Lincoln didn't have much choice in whether he left or he stayed, but she decided to abandon the argument and prayed that the dog didn't puke in her car or destroy her house during their visit. She sighed and held the door open for Carol and Lincoln to pass through. She stepped in for a moment and did a quick scan to make sure that it didn't look like anything would burn the house down in their absence, and she stepped back out, locking the door with her spare key and walking toward the car where Carol was already putting Lincoln in the backseat.

At this point, she only hoped that Andrea was wearing her thinking cap and ready to do some Dixon style interpreting because something needed to be done, even if it meant just tying the two to chairs and forcing them to talk it out with her and Andrea acting as interpreters for their conversation.


	58. Chapter 58

**AN: Update six.**

**Seriously, your comments are great! **

**Oh and dining room tables in the last chapter? Yeah that was supposed to be a chair from the table…whoops…LOL**

**A billion typos are probably happening here…**

**Last one for the night…I think…**

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Michonne let Andrea in, glad that Lincoln was closed up in the bedroom. If he started barking and woke Carol up after the long process that getting her to sleep had been, Michonne might have considered stuffing the dog.

"Keep your voice down," Michonne said. "All the babies are asleep and I don't want a single one waking up."

"Should we talk outside?" Andrea asked.

"It'll be fine, just keep it low," Michonne said.

They made their way into the living room and sat side by side on the love seat.

"What did you tell Daryl and Merle?" Michonne asked.

"What was I going to tell them?" Andrea asked, shrugging. "All you told me was that you urgently needed to talk to me, so I told them I had a friend who needed help. Now are you going to tell me why I'm here right now?"

"We have a problem," Michonne said. "A very big problem."

"We as in who we?" Andrea asked. "We as you and me?"

Michonne nodded.

"We're the only two adults around here from what I can tell, so we have a problem," Michonne said.

"What is it?" Andrea asked.

"How do Dixons feel about paternity?" Michonne asked.

Andrea wrinkled her brow at her.

"I don't know. How am I supposed to know that?" Andrea asked.

"I didn't know if they might have mentioned it," Michonne said. "Because our problem is that Carol's pregnant."

Andrea's eyes went wide.

"Oh God!" She said. "You're not serious…"

"Oh I'm serious," Michonne said. "I don't kid about shit like this. She's in the guest room, sleeping finally. She's been crawling around on her hands and knees in the bathroom for most of the night. I tried to feed her some broth because it's nice and soothing and warm. It took her five minutes to drink it and about an hour and half to feel like she was done throwing it back up."

Andrea made a face.

"Is that normal?" Andrea asked.

Michonne shrugged.

"Some women get morning sickness really badly, others hardly get it at all. Apparently for Carol it's more like all day sickness and it's making her its bitch," Michonne said.

Andrea snorted.

"Oh God, I shouldn't laugh about that. If I ever get pregnant God will punish me for laughing," Andrea said.

"So, what do we do? Because we've got to figure out what this stupid fight was about and fix it. Neither damn one of them has any communication skills and now Carol's pregnant and Daryl doesn't even know about it," Michonne said. "We fixed it once before, we can fix it again."

"I don't feel like we fixed it," Andrea said. "I feel like we held it together with string and duct tape because if we'd really fixed it then I don't think it'd be broken this quickly."

"Well get the duct tape because it's come undone," Michonne said. "Carol doesn't even want to tell Daryl. She's insisting that she's going to do this on her own and she doesn't want his help."

Andrea sighed.

"The annoying thing about it is that they both want the same damn thing," Andrea said. "They both want to live in some fucking fairy tale world together."

"So what happened?" Michonne asked.

Andrea shrugged.

"I honestly don't know other than Merle happened and change happened and Daryl decided to go all mini Merle. He freaked out because everything was changing. I don't know what Merle said to him, but he got it in his head that Carol was going to kick him out or run him off or something and he decided he'd get the jump on her and turn tail before she got the chance. Now he's stomping around the apartment acting like he hates everyone who ever lived and he won't talk to a soul," Andrea said.

"Well he may be right, at least now," Michonne said. "Carol's acting like she doesn't want him around anymore. First she was all heartbroken that he was gone and now she's gone total anti-Daryl and doesn't want him near her."

Andrea bit her lip.

"I told Daryl to talk to Hershel Greene. He's like his hero or something. I know he hasn't done it yet, but Hershel could probably get through to him if anyone could," Andrea said.

"And Carol?" Michonne asked. "Do you happen to have something in your magic bag of tricks to get her off of this war path?"

Andrea shrugged.

"Michonne, I can't say I blame her. Daryl literally backed out. No warning, nothing. He walked away and he didn't look back. If she's hurt about it then I'm not surprised," Andrea said.

Michonne rubbed her temples and got up from the couch.

"I need aspirin and a drink, you want anything?" Michonne asked.

"I'm good," Andrea said.

Michonne disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a glass of wine. She sat down on the couch.

"OK, so Carol's got all the right in the world to be pissed that Daryl decided to exit stage left," Michonne said. "Do you think she'd respond, though, if we got Daryl to actually talk to her? To explain why in the world he does the fucked up things that he does?"

"I guess it's worth a try," Andrea said.

"Fine," Michonne said. "Does Daryl work tomorrow?"

"I think so," Andrea said.

"What time does he start?" Michonne asked.

Andrea shrugged.

"He leaves a little before eight, but I don't actually know when he works," Andrea responded.

"Go home and get some rest," Michonne said. "I've got a call to make in the morning and I might need you for interpretation later…or maybe just to help me hide the bodies if it comes down to it."

Andrea laughed and shrugged.

"Whatever…you know where to reach me," she said, getting up. "I'll let myself out."

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"You got a few minutes, son?" Hershel asked, approaching Daryl in the barn. Daryl was opening a bag of feed to dump into the barrels that were almost empty. He turned around, wiping his face.

"You the boss," Daryl said. "I reckon I got all the time ya need me ta have. What'cha need me ta do?" He asked.

"I just want to have a little talk with you," Hershel said.

Daryl had no idea what Hershel wanted to talk to him about, but he sincerely hoped he hadn't done anything wrong. He was starting to feel like things were pretty shitty these days and the last damn thing he needed was to be looking for another job in this Billy squat town.

"I ain't done nothin' have I?" Daryl asked, trying to scan his memory for any request that Hershel might have made that he hadn't complied with.

Hershel smiled and shook his head.

"No, son, nothing like that," Hershel said.

Daryl shifted his weight, waiting for the old man to begin talking. Hershel looked at him, though, like he had some kind of expectation.

"What'cha need ta talk about?" Daryl asked. He didn't have anything that he felt he could say to Hershel, so he wasn't sure what the old man might be coming to him for council for.

"Why don't you take a walk with me?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shrugged and followed Hershel out of the barn. They started down across the fields and Daryl walked in silence behind the old man trying to figure out what he could possibly have on his mind.

"How are things with Carol Ann and that dog she's got?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"Fine, I reckon," Daryl responded.

Hershel turned to him a little.

"You mean you don't know?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't seen her in a bit," Daryl responded. He knew that Hershel had a soft spot for Carol, and he didn't really know if he wanted to open the whole can of worms about the fact that they weren't exactly speaking. Hershel continued on, and Daryl followed him until they came to the edge of the property where there was an old tree that had a roughly made stone bench sitting under it. Hershel sat down on the bench and motioned to Daryl to join him. Daryl sat and fished in his pocket, plucking out a cigarette. "Ya care if I smoke?" He asked. Hershel shook his head, so Daryl lit the cigarette.

"This farm used to be my daddy's old farm," Hershel said.

Daryl nodded a little.

"You know what he used to call this old tree?" Hershel asked, looking behind him at the tree. Daryl shook his head. He wasn't even sure what kind of tree the old thing was. "He used to call it the courtin' tree," Hershel said. "He said that under this old tree was the first place he ever kissed my mama."

Daryl nodded his head. He didn't really care about what Hershel was saying, but the old man was paying him so he couldn't exactly leave.

"I brought Jo out here when we were first dating," Hershel said. He chuckled. "I brought her out here a few times, actually. This was where I proposed to her."

Daryl didn't respond.

"Do you know that when Jo and I were dating we broke up four times?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head. He didn't know how he would be expected to know that, but the detail surprised him. He couldn't imagine Hershel and Miss Jo breaking up even once, less likely four times. Hershel smiled at him.

"The first time we broke up it was because her parents thought that she could do better than being a farmer's wife," Hershel said. He was looking at the ground instead of at Daryl, so Daryl didn't respond. "They were probably right, too. Jo had the attention of most of the boys that we went to school with and some of them went on to be doctors…moved on to better places than Sweet Junction."

"Why'd ya break up after that?" Daryl asked.

"The second time," Hershel said, "was because I kissed Mary Jane Harper at the Sweetgrass Festival and Jo saw it."

Daryl was surprised.

"Why'd ya kiss her then?" He asked.

Hershel chuckled.

"I suppose because I could," Hershel said. He shrugged. "When you're young you do things sometimes, just because you can do them."

Daryl supposed that was reasonable.

"The third time we broke up was because it was Jo's turn to be foolish. She thought she wanted to court some boy. I don't even remember his name…" Hershel said.

"And the fourth?" Daryl asked.

"I was late to our wedding," Hershel said. "Jo was as mad as a wet hen and she had every right to be. I went out drinking the night before to celebrate the wedding and no one remembered to get up on time to be at the church. She broke up with me right out behind the church, just screaming and crying and telling me her daddy was right and she never should have agreed to marry me."

"How'd ya get her back after that one?" Daryl asked. He couldn't imagine a woman would overcome something like that very easily.

"I said I was sorry," Hershel said, laughing a little.

"That's it?" Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded.

"I let her have her hissy fit. Then I told her I was sorry. She wasn't satisfied, of course, so I marched right into that church and walked right up to the front and I confessed my sins to everyone waiting there. Jo, she was standing in the back, she just listened. When I was done, I went back down the aisle and told her that I wouldn't do anything like that again. I'd always be on time and I wouldn't hurt her feelings or scare her into believing I wasn't coming when she thought I should be there," Hershel said. "She agreed to marry me."

"An' then ya was always there?" Daryl asked.

Hershel laughed. He shook his head.

"Oh no…I was just getting started," he said. "More than once I broke every promise I ever made to that woman, and she broke more than one or two to me."

Daryl didn't understand any of this.

"Why ya tellin' me this?" Daryl asked.

"Because, son, someone told me that you kind of thought you wanted to be like me one day," Hershel said. "And I'm flattered that you would want to be like me, but I think you need to understand a little more about who I am if you're going to decide you want to model yourself after me. You might find out we're already more alike than you think."

"Andrea told you that?" Daryl asked. He should have known she'd go sticking her nose where it didn't belong.

Hershel shook his head.

"No, Daryl. I haven't talked to Andrea. Now, would you like to tell me what it is that makes you think you want to be like me?" Hershel asked. "I know that you want to have a relationship like mine, but what is it exactly that you think I have?"

Daryl felt his face burn. He didn't really want to talk to Hershel about what he thought about things. He felt kind of foolish trying to put these things into words.

"Ya happy," Daryl said. "You an' Miss Jo, y'all always happy an' smilin' at each other."

Hershel chuckled again.

"We are happy, Daryl, we're very happy…but we're not always smiling. Just like every couple we have our ups and downs. It's going to happen any time two people try to make a life together. You're two halves and you try to make a hole, but the pieces never quite fit perfectly," Hershel said.

"So how come ya been married so long if ya don't work together right?" Daryl asked.

"Oh we work," Hershel said. "Just because something isn't perfect, doesn't mean it's no good. We just know not to give up. There's a reason that we started out together, and there's a reason that we ended up back together every time we broke apart. We just have to remember that for as bad as we think it is when it's bad, it's that good when it's good…and all in all, the good outweighs the bad."

Daryl sighed.

"So who called ya?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter," Hershel said. "Do you want to tell me what happened with you and Carol Ann?"

Daryl shrugged.

"I don't really know what happened," he said. "It got outta hand, I reckon."

"I see," Hershel said. "How did they get out of hand?"

"Carol's changin'," Daryl said. "She's got her a new house an' she's goin' ta school an' she's wantin' ta be somethin' big…she ain't gon' want me for long…"

"So you decided to run while you could still do it with your pride?" Hershel asked.

Daryl didn't think it sounded good when Hershel put it that way. He wasn't sure if that was exactly what he'd intended to do or not.

"I just figured that if she was gonna end up gettin' tired a' me too, I'd just go ahead an' take care of it," Daryl said.

Hershel nodded.

"Sounds reasonable," Hershel said. "If you know that she was going to decide to just up and get rid of you, of course it makes sense to go ahead and do it yourself, right? I mean that way you're in control of when it happens. You did know for sure that she was going to do that, right?"

Daryl chuckled at the facial expression Hershel made at him.

"I'm sorry I done it now," Daryl said. "But I ain't sure how ta fix it. I don't know how ta live in her new world an' I don't want her realizin' that I ain't what she wants me ta be."

"What's so different, Daryl, about this new world that Carol lives in that wasn't there before? What's changed since the day we sat on the back of the truck and you asked me about her hound dog?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"A lot's different. She's moved into a new house an' it just don't feel like I fit there," Daryl said. "It don't feel like it's my house…and if what Merle says is true, then she's gon' start talkin' ta people that I don't know…people that ain't gon' think she needs ta be with someone like me."

"You mean like Jo's daddy felt about me?" Hershel asked. "Daryl, what do you feel about Carol Ann? Do you love her?"

Daryl hate that question most of all. He wasn't sure if he loved her or not. He wasn't sure if he really knew how he was supposed to feel when he loved someone. He loved his mama, but the way he felt about her was different than he felt about Carol.

He chewed at his cuticle, wishing he knew how to respond. It was supposed to be a simple yes or no answer and he knew that much, but he just didn't know which one was correct.

"How do ya know if ya love someone?" He asked finally.

Hershel looked at him a minute, like he was thinking. Then he smiled at him.

"That's a good question," Hershel said. "And I don't think there's a clear answer. I think it depends on who it is and how you love them. Love is always different. For instance the love I feel for Jo is different than the love I feel for my children. Let me ask you this…" Hershel paused and thought for a minute longer, "if I told you, sitting right here, that you'd never see Carol Ann again…ever…how would you feel?"

Daryl shrugged and shook his head.

"I don't know," he said. "Ain't a very good question."

Hershel chuckled.

"Do you miss her?" Hershel asked.

Daryl nodded. He did miss her. He missed nearly everything about her. Hershel nodded at him in response.

"What would you say if I said you had to spend the rest of your life, until you're even older than I am, waking up and looking at her every single morning?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"I reckon it'd be OK," Daryl said. "I don't mind wakin' up with her."

"So it's not waking up with her that you got scared of, right? You ran out because you were afraid of not waking up with her. Afraid that she wouldn't let that happen?" Hershel asked.

Daryl nodded.

Hershel smiled and squeezed Daryl's shoulder.

"I'm no expert, Daryl, and I've been wrong on many occasions, about many things, but I would venture to say that you're in love," Hershel said. "If you love her, there's a chance that she loves you, you know. And if she does love you, she's probably not going to ask you to go anywhere…at least not for a long time. Sometimes Miss Jo sends me out to the barn for a while, but she always lets me back in later."

"What if she changes her mind, though?" Daryl asked.

"What if she doesn't?" Hershel responded. "Why don't you try apologizing, Daryl? Give it a chance. You're worried that she might think you don't fit in her world, but instead of trying to fit in her world, why don't you help her shape that world to fit you? If you're in love with her, and she's in love with you, you'll make it work."

"How do I know if she loves me?" Daryl asked.

Hershel laughed a hearty laugh this time.

"One of the most interesting things about women, Daryl, is that they usually have a sixth sense of sorts about love. They use their emotions a lot. I bet if you came right out and asked her, she'd be able to tell you if she loved you," Hershel said. "Miss Jo was the first one to let me in on the secret that she loved me…and it wasn't long after that when I came around to realizing that I felt the same way."

"She ain't talkin' ta me right now," Daryl said. "I think I mighta messed up pretty bad."

"Late for your own wedding bad?" Hershel asked, winking at Daryl. "My sources tell me she'll probably talk to you, one way or the other. Should I let them know you're willing to apologize and try again?"

"This is the second time I had ta do this," Daryl said.

"It takes some of us a time or two to really figure out what we want," Hershel said, nodding his head. "Or four…that's a good number too."

Daryl chuckled.

"So are you willing to talk it out with my sources or what?" Hershel asked.

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah, I think I am," he said. "I just hope I know the right thing ta say."

"Oh, son," Hershel said, "you'll never know the right thing to say before you're there. In fact, most of the time you won't even know you've said the right thing until after you've said it. That's one of the fun things about relationships."

Daryl chuckled at the old man's grin.

"Sounds complicated," Daryl said.

Hershel nodded.

"That's what makes it all so exciting," Hershel said. He stood up and Daryl followed suit, heading back toward the house with him. "Daryl, I also heard that you have a brother."

"Merle?" Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded.

"Next time you need advice on how to do things my way, ask me…not Merle," Hershel said.

"Ya sure ya didn't talk ta Andrea?" Daryl asked.

Hershel chuckled.


	59. Chapter 59

**AN: OK first update for today.**

**Today will probably not be quite as "productive" as yesterday. Tomorrow begins the serious work schedule so updates will not be terribly frequent, but I'll do what I can, when I can.**

**Thank you again for all your reviews/comments/support. It's all appreciated.**

**I also wanted to drop a reminder to anyone who may have forgotten. All of our characters here are younger characters. They haven't had the same life experiences as they have in the zombie apocalypse of the show. Therefore they have to be altered some to reflect a different lifestyle/place/time, etc. **

**I hope you enjoy.**

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Andrea had the most cryptic phone conversation with Michonne that she'd ever had in her life. They almost developed some sort of alien language to make sure that no one in Andrea's apartment understood anything she said, and Carol was left unaware of what Michonne was talking about. As a result, Andrea hoped that she fully understood what to expect from the day, but she knew they were all trying to wing it.

It had been assured that Merle would go to work. The phone call early that morning from Tyreese, who happened to have some serious deadline emergencies, and who happened to offer Merle double his pay that day, assured that Merle was more than happy to pass his extra time on his day off going into work.

It wasn't that anyone hated Merle, not exactly, though they did somewhat blame him for aiding in the initial crisis. Therefore the entire day would simply run smoother if Michonne suggested, as she did, to Tyreese that he make the offer and keep Merle very, very busy.

Andrea made breakfast for Daryl, who didn't have to work either, and started to prep him for the events of the day. They'd discussed it and they thought that the only way to make this work was to make sure that Daryl was prepared and Carol was blindsided enough that she didn't have time to try to shut down. They were taking a lot of chances, but for some reason Andrea and Michonne both felt lucky about this one.

"Daryl," Andrea asked, scraping the eggs onto his plate, "how do you feel about children?"

Daryl, still sleepy but in a rather good mood because he already had it in his head that everything was aimed for success, smiled at her.

"Why? Is that what you made for breakfast?" He asked.

Andrea smiled. At least he was done with the snapping and snarling. He understood that he was going to have to listen to people and play nice if wanted everything to work in his favor.

"I'm serious," she said, sitting down with her breakfast. "Have you ever thought about it? What do you think about kids?"

Daryl shrugged and started eating.

"I don't mind 'em long as they ain't around me too much," Daryl said. "They loud an' they always leakin' an' shit from some damn where. Always somethin' wrong with 'em."

Andrea nodded. She had suspected as much. Honestly she wasn't sure that Daryl nor Merle either one had received in their lives a whole lot of training with kids. It seemed like they were kids themselves, from what she understood, when they set out together to try to navigate the world. Andrea could somewhat sympathize with them. She didn't have any great know-how when it came to children and she always wondered how it was that people who had them seemed to know what the hell to do with them. Michonne had assured her, though, that parental instincts were real and that they kicked in…so she hoped she could take Daryl through this just enough for the day, and then maybe Hershel could do more of the dirty work later.

"Have you ever thought what it might be like to have your own, though?" Andrea asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Not hardly," he said.

Andrea realized this was just one of those things that she was going to have to tell him, let him have his panic attack or whatever was about to happen, and then she was going to have to try to pick up all his pieces and get him glued back together before they were supposed to be at Carol's house.

"Daryl, there's something that we need to talk about, OK? And you can freak out if you want, but I want you try to think about it," Andrea said.

Now Daryl looked terrified and Andrea knew she hadn't thought through her delivery well enough. It was too late to turn back now, though.

"Daryl, Carol's pregnant and she didn't want to tell you because she thought you wouldn't want it and you might _suggest_ or something else, that it wasn't a good idea," Andrea said.

And there it was. The look on Daryl's face had reached what Andrea could only classify as maximum confusion or worry, or whatever it was that Daryl did when he processed something that was just too much to be softened by breakfast.

"She's pregnant?" Daryl asked.

Andrea nodded. At least he wasn't running from the room screaming or anything. That had to be a good sign.

"Mine?" Daryl asked.

Andrea chuckled.

"Yes, Daryl. How promiscuous do you think Carol is?" Andrea asked. She assumed the question probably only followed in the natural order of questioning though. Daryl shrugged but he didn't look like he was freaking out so much as he was simply trying to process the existence of this pregnancy that he'd known nothing about until right now. "You don't have to decide all your thoughts on the baby right now, Daryl," Andrea said. "But we thought it might be better if you'd had a little time to process the idea when Carol wasn't around. We can talk about it, if you want."

"I don't know much about babies," Daryl said.

"And that's OK," Andrea said. "Carol seems pretty comfortable with them. She likes Michonne's kids. I mean you've got time and I don't think if you had the kid right now it would be a total nightmare. Wouldn't be like if Merle and me had a kid and we had to have entire conversations about where we think we might have left it."

Daryl chuckled a little. Andrea was surprised that he was taking this so well. He seemed, at least for the moment, to just be trying to process the idea, not reject it. Processing they could work with…Carol was still processing it. Rejection was where they were going to get into trouble.

"So you think you might want the kid? Or at least be willing to still try to make things work?" Andrea asked. She hated pointing out to Daryl, since he'd been somewhat excited to think that they were going to clean up this whole mess and return to the two chowder heads in their care back to whatever state of union that they had, that rejecting this baby would pretty much be a deal breaker that no amount of string and duct tape was going to be able to fix.

Daryl shrugged.

"I don't know…I mean…ya said she was pregnant. Ain't like I got much of a choice, do I?" Daryl asked. "I mean I still wanta talk ta Carol an' if she's gonna have a kid…then I reckon that's part of it, ain't it?"

Andrea thought that at least it was a start. Daryl might not be applying for any father of the year awards…it was far too soon to tell that, but at least it looked like she might be able to have him ready not to turn tail and run as soon as they got there. She had the rest of breakfast to get him ready to talk about it and then it was show time.

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Michonne had broken it to Carol that they were having company, and she'd broke it to her that Daryl was part of that company. It hadn't gone as well as she'd expected. At first Carol had somewhat railed against her, giving her a type of sleeping with the enemy speech that she hadn't entirely anticipated. Now Carol was calming down a bit. Michonne had done her best to make Carol know that it was only a conversation, and that if things didn't work out at the end of the conversation, that was fine, but they were all going to sit down and talk. The part she through in about holding Lincoln for hostage until after the conversation was satisfactorily closed was just a little something extra.

By the time that Andrea got there with Daryl in tow, Michonne had Carol somewhat collected and already sitting at the dining room table where she intended for them to have what she could only bring herself to think of as some kind of peace meeting or negotiations.

Michonne held the door and Andrea slipped through it, immediately walking over and depositing all her belongings on the island in the kitchen. Daryl came through next, greeting Michonne, and she asked him to have a seat at the table, noticing that her ward for the day had her arms crossed across her chest and was choosing to stare out the window instead of engage in any preliminary chatter or eye contact.

"How'd it go?" Michonne whispered to Andrea.

"He's open…he wants to talk about it," Andrea whispered back. Michonne breathed a sigh of relief. "Yours?"

"All the emotional maturity of a toddler for the moment," Michonne said. Andrea nodded a little and sighed.

"Shall we do this?" She asked.

"Today's as good as any," Michonne said.

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"So the biggest problem we have here is a breakdown in communication," Michonne said, sitting across the table from Andrea. "It's not a problem with expectation. Therefore, Andrea will be representing Daryl and I'll be representing Carol in this situation. We're going to get things started by outlining the basics. The first step to successful relationship beginnings is figuring out what everyone wants. This can alter slightly after the initial discussion, but if one party strays too far from the other party, there tends to be a breakdown. As evidenced by my divorce and Andrea's lack of ability to get Merle to be anything besides a human swine."

Andrea chuckled.

"So, let's begin," Andrea said.

"I'll start," Michonne said. "Carol would like a house with green shutters to make into a home. As you can see, we are sitting in said house. I wasn't really sure about the shutters before, but now they're lovely."

"I agree," Andrea said. "It was a risk, but a good one."

"Carol also would like a dog," Michonne said.

"Exhibit Lincoln," Andrea said.

"It's safe to assume that Daryl would also like some place to live," Michonne said. "What are his feelings on the dog?"

"Daryl is accepting of the dog," Andrea responded.

"Good…now Carol would like a happy marriage, and children," Michonne said.

"Daryl would like to be like Hershel and Josephine Greene, both examples of about the happiest marriage that Sweet Junction has to offer," Andrea said. "Hershel and Jo also have children."

"So now that we've laid out all the details," Michonne said, "which apparently the two of you haven't done yet…we can see that both of you are headed in more or less the same direction with what you would like out of this relationship? Anyone here disagree?"

No one said anything. Michonne sat upright in her chair. Andrea leaned on her elbow at the table, Daryl leaned with both of his on the table staring at Carol, and Carol remained with her arms crossed and was now staring at her lap.

"Good, so now let's start with the problem at hand. Andrea and I are going to be here to act as mediators and witnesses, but you two lovely people are going to be the ones to work this out," Michonne said.

"Daryl, why don't you start?" Andrea asked.

Daryl shifted a little in his chair, obviously trying to remember any one of the possible statements that he'd been rehearsing since the day before.

"I'm sorry that I left without tellin' ya and that I wouldn't talk when ya called," Daryl said. He looked at Andrea and she nodded at him a little.

"Carol?" Michonne urged.

"Why did you leave? You never even said why you left," Carol said.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"Everything was changin'," Daryl said, "an' Merle said ya was gonna end up gettin' tired a' me 'cause I weren't gon' fit ya new life…an' I didn't feel like I fit it."

Carol looked at him like he was crazy.

"I would like to interject here," Andrea said. "Merle is going to get his, and I have repeatedly stated that no one should listen to or trust anything that Merle says. The only time the man gives you an honest answer is if you've literally got his balls in your hands…so do with that what you will."

Daryl shot her a look and she shrugged a little.

"What changed, Daryl? The house? I live here now. It's my house, that's all that changed. Andrea and Merle moved across the hall, but nothing really changed except location," Carol said. "Did I do something?"

"The house is nice an' it's clean an' it ain't nothin' like the apartments, an' Mer-…an' I ain't the kinda guy that lives in nice houses an' runs around with them kinda people," Daryl said.

"Daryl, it is a nice house, and it's clean because it's new and I have enough time to keep it clean. I wanted a house, and I wasn't going to buy a rundown shack or something if I was going to put my money into it," Carol said. "I wanted a nice house…that's something I always wanted. I don't even know what people you're talking about but I haven't even seen anyone since I moved in. I don't even have neighbors yet!"

"Ya gon' have neighbors an' ya gonna be ashamed a' me 'cause I ain't what they are," Daryl said. "I just didn't want'cha gettin' rid a' me 'cause a' that."

"So you got rid of me because my nonexistent neighbors might change my opinion of you?" Carol asked.

Daryl bit at his thumb.

"I said I was sorry," he said. "I didn't mean ta do it once I did it…an' then I didn't know how ta fix it an' ya was already askin' men ta come over ta your house," Daryl said.

Carol knitted her eyebrows together.

"What men? There haven't been men at my house," Carol said.

"I heard Glenn tell Maggie that right there in Lula's ya asked some man ta come ta ya house," Daryl said. "He heard it."

"Maggie Greene?" Andrea asked. "Are you talking about Glenn Rhee?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Damn Korean kid she's dating," Daryl said.

"Jesus! That kid's mouth runs more than the faucet in our old apartment," Andrea said. "He's about like Merle. Don't believe a damn thing he says. I should know, I work with his parents and he's always in there entertaining someone."

"I didn't ask any man to come to my house!" Carol interjected. "The only people I even talk to are customers."

"OK…I think we've lost our line of thought here," Michonne said. "Carol didn't ask anyone to her house. Glenn Rhee is a gossip. Merle is an idiot. Daryl's sorry he left because he thought that you would think he wasn't good enough. You got upset because he ditched you without an explanation. Let's carry on from there."

Now it was her turn to lean against the table in the same general stance that Andrea had assumed. Daryl looked at both of them and fidgeted in his seat.

"Can I come back ta the house?" Daryl asked.

"Are you just going to leave again when you're supposed to be coming home for dinner?" Carol snapped back at him.

"Time out," Michonne said. "Carol, before all of this happened. Was it or was it not your intention to have Daryl live with you in this house?"

Carol looked at Michonne and back at Daryl. She hesitated for a few minutes before finally responding to MIchonne.

"I had hoped that Daryl was going to live in the house," Carol said.

"Full time?" Michonne asked.

"If he wanted to," Carol responded.

"Did you ask him?" Michonne asked.

"No," Daryl interjected.

"I didn't want him thinking that I was trying to trap him in something, since we know that's one of Merle's favorite speeches," Carol said.

"So you never asked?" Michonne asked.

"Not exactly," Carol responded.

Michonne looked at Andrea.

"Daryl, would you like to live in the house with Carol?" Andrea asked, sighing.

"If she's gon' let me back in," Daryl said.

"Carol?" Michonne asked. "Would you like to let Daryl back in the house? And maybe talk to him about what we discussed?"

Carol glared at Michonne.

"If you want to come back to the house, then I guess we can give it another try," Carol said. "But if you're going to go to the apartment after work then I think you should at least leave me a note or call when you get there so I know where you are."

Daryl nodded.

"And before you decide whether or not you want to come back…" Carol hesitated and looked at Michonne who was staring at her. "I'm pregnant."

Daryl sat there for a moment. The surprised look of the morning was gone. He wasn't surprised at all. Andrea had already let him toy with the idea all morning and had made him promise that he wouldn't say anything about it until Carol brought it up. Now he was calm about it.

"I ain't mad about it," Daryl said. "I don't know nothin' 'bout babies though."

"I want the baby," Carol said. "And if you don't want it then that's fine with me, but I don't want you to try to talk me out of it…not even a little bit."

Daryl shook his head and looked back at Andrea. She tried to urge him on with her eyes.

"I weren't gonna do that," Daryl said. "I don't nothin' 'bout babies, but I weren't gonna say nothin' 'bout it."

"You both have plenty of time to learn what you need to know and to talk about the baby," Michonne said. "Rome wasn't built in a day. That being said, I think that we know now that communication is key and the two of you have some problems communicating. So Andrea and I worked together some yesterday to come up with a simple idea to help you get started."

"I'll get the bag from the car," Andrea said. "Where is it?" She asked Michonne.

"Trunk," Michonne said. "Keys are on the island."

Andrea got up and disappeared outside. She came back a few minutes later carrying a big bag. She passed it to Michonne.

"Now," Andrea said. "The idea is that you two have no idea how to tell each other what is going on with you or when it's appropriate. For now, the answer is that it's always appropriate. You should always talk about what you're feeling because sometimes, just with this stupid mess, little things are big things if you don't talk about them."

"I know," Michonne said, "that both of you have come from backgrounds where you weren't maybe taught that it was OK to say how you're feeling or why you think you might be feeling that way, so we're going to do this as simplistic as possible. So we have the note system."

Michonne dug in her bag and pulled out two small plastic canisters. She'd written Daryl's name on one and Carol's name on the other.

"We don't do artsy craftsy so you can decorate them how you want," Andrea said.

"We have a notepad here," Michonne said, "and there are more in the bag. You put these on the counter. During the day, if something bothers you that the other person says or does or you get worried, or you don't like something, or whatever…then you write it down, and you put it in the other person's jar. The catch is, though, that for everything you put in there that you want to talk about or that you didn't like or whatever the case may be, you have to put another piece of paper in that says something that you did like."

Andrea nodded.

"The every night you've got to empty out your jars together and you've got to talk about the things that are in there. No matter how silly you think they are, or how stupid, you've got to talk about them. Good and bad," Andrea said.

"Eventually," Michonne said, "we hope that you won't need the system because you'll start to understand that you can say what you want to say and the other person has to hear you out. That's not to say that you have to agree all the time, you just have to be willing to listen to what the other person has to say, validate that you understand that they have this feeling, and discuss it."

"We'll demonstrate," Andrea said. "Michonne, I don't like that you woke me up at almost four this morning on my day off, but I do like that you're taking me out to lunch after this to make up for it."

Michonne chuckled a little.

"I understand that you don't like that I woke you up at four because that's really early to get up, but I had to talk to you before I got Tyreese to call in time for Merle to go to work. I appreciate that you were willing to get up to help me anyway. I don't like that you didn't tell me I was buying you lunch." Michonne responded.

"I know I should have told you before that you were buying me lunch, but I didn't think of it until now and it still seems like a very good idea to me," Andrea said.

"Actually," Michonne said, "it's a pretty good idea to me too. If you don't mind, though, I need to pick the kids up from daycare if I'm not going to be working at all today. Can they come with us?"

"That will be great," Andrea said. "Apparently I'm going to be some kind of aunt or something and I could use the practice."

"See? That's essentially how it's going to work out for you two," Michonne said.

"So we're going to talk to each other every night like we're stupid?" Carol asked.

"No," Michonne said, "you're going to talk to each other about everything that you think is stupid throughout the day. Once you get more comfortable doing it, you'll have things like spontaneous conversations, but until then things like 'I think it would be nice if you lived with me' and 'I'm worried that you won't like what the neighbors think of me' should be things that go in the jar."

Carol sighed.

"Fine, I'll try it," she said.

"Daryl?" Andrea asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Do I gotta write a lot?" He asked.

"No," Andrea said. "You can write one word if you want to. Just put the one word there and you can explain it how you want later."

"I reckon I can do that," Daryl said.

"You've both been lovely clients," Michonne said, standing up. She put the bag on the table next to the canisters. "I think that now we'll be leaving you to get started learning how to communicate with one another. If you should need help, you have my cell number."

Andrea stood up.

"And I'm going to be with her. We're going to go and pick up the kids, have lunch, and then see what the day holds," Andrea said.

Both of them left, hoping that at least they had got things somewhat put back together and that Daryl and Carol were set to start figuring how to make this work.


	60. Chapter 60

**AN: Second update of the day.**

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Carol and Daryl continued to sit for some time across from one another after Andrea and Michonne had made their exits. They just sat there, both thinking about whatever it was that they needed to think about.

"Now what?" Carol asked finally.

Daryl shrugged.

"We can keep goin' with them cookie jar notes," Daryl said.

"You mean fill the jars up?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Or we could just talk about 'em 'til we feel like leavin' the table an' then we write it down…they said we gotta learn ta talk," Daryl said.

Carol shifted.

"I don't like feeling like you're going to listen to Merle's stupid mouth," Carol said.

"I been listenin' ta Merle's mouth my whole damn life," Daryl replied. "I think he's stupid too, but sometimes he's right."

"But more than he's right, he's wrong," Carol replied. "Daryl, I don't care about what the neighbors I don't have think. I know how people in this town are already. They're going to talk about people. That's what they do. If it's true or it's not true, it doesn't matter to them."

"What if ya start thinkin' that they right, though?" Daryl asked.

Carol sat there for a few minutes. She'd rolled one of the pens over that fell out of the bag and she was rolling it back and forth between her hands.

"Can I ask ya somethin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged.

"I guess we're at the talking table," she said. "Now's as good a time as any to ask me whatever you want."

Daryl shifted in his chair trying to get comfortable and bring himself to ask the question.

"I talked ta Hershel yesterday," Daryl said. "An' he said I should ask ya if ya love me."

Carol shrugged a little.

"What am I supposed to say to that, Daryl?" She asked.

"I reckon ya s'posed ta say if ya do or if ya don't," Daryl responded. "That's s'posed ta be ya part a' the question."

"And if I say I do, are you going to run away screaming like Merle would tell you to?" Carol asked.

Daryl chewed at his lip. He chuckled a little.

"Does that mean ya do or that'cha don't know?" He asked.

"I asked you a question," Carol responded.

Daryl stared at her.

"I ain't good at this stuff," he said. "I don't know what the hell I'm doin' an' I keep fuckin' shit up."

"So you're going to run again?" Carol asked. "Because more than anything I don't want to keep doing this if you're going to keep running. If I let you come back then I don't want you to just to get scared and run away again. Either stay or go, but I don't want my life to have a revolving door."

"I don't wanna run," Daryl said. "I got scared…Everythin' was changin' an' you was changin'…"

"How did I change?" Carol asked.

"Ya was all excited about the house an' all the stuff with the house…an' ya was all free from Ed…an' then ya was different that night. Ya had on them clothes an' ya painted yaself all up…" Daryl trailed off. He didn't want to look at Carol because she looked upset.

"I wanted to be free from Ed, Daryl, and I thought you would think that's a good thing, not a bad thing," Carol said.

"It is good that ya ain't got Ed no more, but it means ya…I don't know…it means ya can do what ya wanna do," Daryl said.

"And what do I want to do? I wanted to go to the store to buy things to cook for you, Daryl. I wanted to bake apple pies and carve pumpkins for Halloween…I wanted to go and look at Christmas lights in the park…with you!" Carol said, choking back a sob. "I wanted this house to be perfect for all of that…not scary…not the kind of house you run away from…the kind of house you want to go home to. And that outfit? I thought you'd like it…"

"I did like ya outfit, but it weren't you," Daryl said. "Ya don't look like that an' I thought ya was pretty but it weren't like ya normally is…"

"It was just something different," Carol said. "It was supposed to be good different, Daryl, not bad different."

"I just don't like different," Daryl said.

"Well you're going to have to either learn to deal with different or I'm serious and this isn't going to work," Carol said. "No amount of cookie jars is going to make it work. I'm pregnant, Daryl…do you even know how different a baby makes things?"

Daryl shook his head. He got up from where he was sitting and paced back and forth for a moment behind his side of the table.

"No, I don't Carol, not really," he said. "I told ya that I don't know nothin' 'bout babies, OK? I know they cry a lot an' I know they smell bad an' they always snotty or pissin' their pants, but I really don't know much about 'em. I know that things gotta be different, but I don't like you bein' different 'cause if ya decide ta change then ya might change how ya feel about me. That's why I got scared an' that's why I left. I don't know what the hell else ta tell ya!"

"Babies do cry," Carol said. "And they're messy and they're needy…they're all those things…and they change things. And me? Daryl I'm going to change a lot…but just because something about me changes it doesn't mean that I'm going to change how I feel about you. You're the one that left me, Daryl. I didn't leave you. You left me."

"Ya gonna tell me if ya love me or not?" Daryl asked.

"Are you just going to leave again?" Carol asked.

"Damn it!" Daryl said. "I'm standin' here ain't I?"

Carol stared at him.

"I think I do love you," Carol said. "Is that what you wanted me to say?"

Daryl stood still then, biting at his thumb.

"I think I love ya too," Daryl said.

"Are you moving in?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm movin' in I reckon."

"If you stay you don't get to just run out again," Carol said. "I mean that…I'll have the baby on my own if I have to, but I'm not having you just running in and out of my life and its life whenever something freaks you out. I can't do that."

Daryl nodded a little.

"So we gonna try it then?" Daryl asked.

Carol got up and collected up the plastic containers from the table. She carried them into the kitchen and put them on the counter, one on either side of the coffee pot. Daryl followed after her to watch what she was doing.

"We'll try it," she said.

"Can I kiss ya?" Daryl asked. Carol sighed and turned around. Daryl pulled her to him and brought his lips to hers. She kissed him back, gently and then pulled away.

"Don't make me sorry for this," Carol said, looking Daryl in the eye. "Please don't make me sorry for this."

Daryl smiled at her and kissed her again.

"I'ma try not to," he said when they pulled apart the second time.

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Andrea waited until Merle was in the shower to wedge her pencil in her book, toss her glasses on the kitchen table, and strip out of her clothes. She eased into the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain back, tugging the ponytail ring loose from her hair and dropping it on the side of the tub.

"Well…" Merle growled. "Look at'cha. Just couldn't wait for me ta get out, huh sugah?" He smiled at her and she smiled back at him, shaking her head a little.

"No," she said, "I sure couldn't." She leaned in, kissing him, her hands sliding down his body while he shampooed his hair. "Hot water lasts longer here…" she purred at him.

Merle chuckled.

"Damn tub's bigger too. We had the fuckin' redheaded step child a' places over there, I reckon," Merle said.

Andrea smiled at the change in his tone of voice. His voice always took on a gravelly sound when he was he more than interested in anything she was proposing.

"I told you that moving over here was a good idea," Andrea said. She rubbed against him and bit his earlobe, holding it between her teeth a moment as she rubbed her tongue against it. Merle shivered despite the warmth of the water trailing over him. "Didn't I tell you?" She asked.

"Mmm…hmmm…damn sure did, sugah," Merle said with a chuckle.

Andrea dipped her head and sucked at his nipple, ignoring the mouthful of water she got trailing down from the shower spray. She dipped her hand and wrapped it around him, stroking him for a moment. He closed his eyes and growled in his throat. She smiled and dropped to her knees, stopping for a moment and looking up at him. After a second, Merle looked down at her and grinned.

"Ya know what the hell ta do with it," he said. "Ya ain't no damn blushin' virgin."

Merle tangled his fingers in her hair and pushed her head toward him. She chuckled at him and turned her neck a little trying to get him to let go. Finally she leaned in and licked the tip of him, sucking slightly. He moved his hand then.

"I do know what to do," she said. She took him into her mouth, sucking him for a moment before pulling away again. "Daryl's not coming home tonight," she said.

"Mmm…" Merle grumbled. His eyes closed.

"Mmm…mmm…" Andrea moaned. She sucked at him again, twirling her tongue around him and listening to him hiss. "We had him and Carol talk it out…fixed what was going on there…do you know what was goin' on there?"

"Damn Andrea," Merle said, still not opening his eyes. "Ya gonna fuckin' run ya damn mouth or ya gonna do what tha fuck ya down there ta do?"

Andrea chuckled.

"You're right," she said.

Almost as soon as she wrapped her hand around his balls and squeezed harder than she knew he'd like or ever be expecting, Merle's eyes shot open and his hand grabbed into her hair. She'd been expecting that at least, and still considered herself to have the upper hand.

"Fuckin' shit! What tha fuck is wrong with ya crazy bitch?" Merle snarled. Andrea smiled at him, still not loosening her grip. He yanked at her hair.

"Pull my hair again," she said, "and I'll yank yours." She smiled.

"Fuckin' hell!" Merle snarled. "I'ma beat'cha fuckin' ass ya don't let go a' my nuts!"

"I'm not even using my fingernails yet," Andrea said, smiling. "We're going to have a chat."

"Ya fuckin' crazy!" Merle responded.

"Yep…I am," Andrea said. "And I've got your nuts…my turn to talk now."

Merle narrowed his eyes at her, but he didn't dare move.

"I want you to listen to me really well," Andrea said. "And I know that means you have to concentrate doubly hard right now, but I want you to try and focus. No harm is going to come to your manhood as long as you give it the old high school try. Your brother loves Carol, and she loves him. Now whether it's really what we all wanted to happen or not, they're going to have a kid together."

"What?" Merle asked. "He knocked her up?"

Andrea squeezed a little.

"Shhh…you're not talking yet," she said. She smiled again. "Now, you…Merle…are a dick. And I forgive you for it most of the time. You're not going to be dicking your brother around about this, though. You're going to let him live his life, and you're going to finish fucking yours up if that's what you want to do. If I hear…and remember that I hear everything…that you have been dicking him the fuck around about this…then I'm going to remove your balls..." She smiled again. "And you're not going to see it coming." She raised her eyebrows at him. "If you can behave…you get to keep them." She shook her head at him. "Now I didn't want it to come to this, but you decided that it had to be this way…so there it is. Do you understand the issue at hand?"

Merle growled at her and she tightened her grip again. He yanked her hair again, pulling her head up toward him. She tightened her grip more.

"Keep going," she said. "I like challenges."

"Fuckin' bitch!" Merle spat.

Andrea could tell by the look on his face that he was considering passing out more than anything else at the moment.

"Just a yes or no," Andrea said. "Mind your own fucking business or lose the damn things you're so fucking proud of?"

"Fuck you! I don't give a fuck what he does!" Merle spat.

Andrea let go and Merle's hands immediately replaced hers. He weakly kicked at her, but enough attention was focused on his family jewels that he hardly made any contact at all.

"Get the fuck outta here for I fuckin' break ya damn neck!" Merle snarled.

Andrea knew that he wasn't actually going to do anything to her. He'd cuss and he'd snarl for a while, but he wasn't going to lay his hands on her. She'd caused no lasting harm to him, except maybe to his pride, and she'd make it up to him later. She could only hope that the next time he thought that running his mouth to Daryl about shit that he had no business running his mouth about, though, his balls might ache as a reminder.

She scrambled out of the tub, yanking the towel off the rack to leave him tending his wounded pride and throbbing balls.

"Merle, honey," she said, drying off and hanging the towel back on the rod for whenever he finally decided to get out of the shower, "you want me to put some ice in a baggy for you? Helps with the swelling…"

"Fuck you, ya damn bitch!" Merle hissed from inside the shower.

"Not for a little while," she said. "Maybe tomorrow."

She slipped out of the bathroom and went to make him a ziploc bag of ice as a peace offering. He'd forgive her for this eventually, and until then she'd just stay out of his way and ignore whatever he had to spit at her.

For some people cookie jars worked in communication. For others, like Michonne and Tyreese apparently, conversation came easily on both sides. For others still, there were other methods that got employed from time to time. The key, she figured, was discovering what worked best for you and using it. Communication was always important, after all, especially when you really wanted your partner to hear you.


	61. Chapter 61

**AN: Third update of the day. Just a little something kind of filler-ish for progressing.**

**Probably the last one for the night. I might do another if I feel energetic, but I wouldn't count on it. I'm not sure when I'll get to update again. It's going to depend a lot on the schedule (my days vary depending on what day of the week it is and what's going on for certain days) and how tired I am after everything, but I will try to update as often as possible. **

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Daryl accepted the bag of lunch from Carol as he was slipping out the door and kissed her in response.

"You're going to be home for dinner?" She asked.

He nodded at her.

"Gotta get some clothes from Merle and Andrea's," he said. "Then I'm comin' back here."

Carol nodded.

Daryl left them, looking in the bag on his way to the truck and realizing that two sandwiches was going in the cookie jar when he got back to the house. If he didn't have lunch, he didn't mind asking for something from Miss Jo, but he felt bad when he came with lunch and still had to ask for something else. He figured he could put in the cookie jar that Carol made him breakfast even though she didn't look like she felt good and she'd been sick before he got up…that ought to make up for the fact that she didn't know he ate at least two sandwiches for lunch.

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Michonne slipped into Lula's at lunch time and sat down at one of the tables, waving at Jacqui. Carol was waiting on another table and then she came over.

"Didn't expect to see you here," she said.

Michonne didn't eat at Lula's very often for lunch, but she thought she at least needed to find out how the first night had gone after their little round table discussion.

"I thought I'd drop in," Michonne said. "How are you? You look a little pale."

Carol threw a look at Jacqui and sat across from Michonne for a moment.

"I feel nasty," Carol said. "And I called the nurse this morning to verify my appointment and mentioned being sick and she told me it wasn't that bad yet."

"You have to love it when people who aren't you tell you how you feel," Michonne said. Carol nodded. "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone. If you don't feel good, you don't feel good, and that's that. I'm sure serving food doesn't help."

Carol shrugged.

"Hasn't bothered me too much," she said.

Michonne chuckled.

"Boy the smell of anything cooking killed me," she said.

"How long?" Carol asked.

"Probably until about fourteen or fifteen weeks," Michonne said. "Then I went almost instantly from 'I hate food' to 'I bet I can put that whole pizza in my mouth'."

Carol chuckled.

"Sounds exciting," she said. She leaned out of the booth, glancing around to see if anyone was looking for her. "Do you want some lunch?"

Michonne nodded.

"I really just want a salad or something," Michonne said.

"What do you want on it? We can do salad," Carol said.

"Cobb salad?" Michonne asked.

"Coming up," Carol said, sliding out of the booth. "I'll put your order in. Sweet tea to drink?"

"House wine, right?" Michonne asked.

Michonne sat and waited for Carol to make it back. She brought the tea back and sat down again.

"Jacqui said she'll bring it," Carol said. "We're not too busy so she's considering me on break."

"Did you tell her?" Michonne asked.

Carol shook her head and Michonne nodded a little in response.

"It's really better to wait a while, just in case," Michonne said. Carol groaned.

"Did you have to say that?" Carol asked.

"I'm just saying it's better to wait," Michonne said. "How was the first night with Daryl? Did you talk?"

Carol nodded.

"We talked a little bit. I think we covered all we could for one night," Carol said.

"You're not going to solve all your problems instantly," Michonne said. "It's going to take time, but if you work on it, then it should go well. The note system will probably help."

"I think it will," Carol said. "I just hope that he doesn't get scared off again. He seems to understand, though, that I really have no intention of just up and kicking him out the house."

"What about the 'situation'? Has he said anything else?" Michonne asked.

Carol shrugged.

"Not really, I mean what's he going to say? I guess we're just going to play it by ear and hope the note system really does work," Carol said.

Jacqui came over, inadvertently interrupting the conversation. She put the salad in front of Michonne and instantly the conversation changed gears to small talk about parents and household projects. Michonne ate and entertained Jacqui and Carol both for the rest of the time, occasionally losing one or the other to some customer that needed a refill or wanted to ask about dessert.

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It was quitting time at Hershel's and Daryl was dog tired. One thing about the cattle was that they had their days where they weren't making anything easy for you and today had been one of them. Daryl dropped off the last of the equipment in the barn and came out to find Hershel waiting to close it up for the night.

"Good work today, son," Hershel said.

Daryl nodded his thanks at Hershel's acknowledgement of his efforts.

"How did things go with Carol Ann?" Hershel asked. Daryl knew now that Michonne had been the one to call Hershel, and that Hershel had apparently called Michonne back after his talk with Daryl the other day.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"Ya was right," he said. "She forgave me. Now I just gotta not go fu-…messin' it up again."

Hershel chuckled.

"Good intentions will get you somewhere," Hershel said.

Daryl kind of wanted to talk to Hershel about the baby, but he didn't really know if he was allowed to talk about it or not. No one had said he could and no one had said he couldn't. Daryl glanced around. He and Hershel were the only two out there, though, so he didn't think it would really hurt anything.

"Can I talk ta ya a minute?" Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded.

"Any time, Daryl. What's on your mind?" Hershel asked.

Daryl tried to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. He fished in his pocket and dug out a cigarette, lighting it.

"Well, if I was ta talk ta ya 'bout somethin', could ya not say nothin'?" Daryl asked. "'Cause I ain't sure I'm s'posed ta talk about it."

Hershel looked concerned.

"I can keep your confidence, Daryl, if you need me too. What's going on?" Hershel asked.

"Well, Carol's pregnant…" Daryl said. He didn't really know how he thought Hershel would react, but the man's facial expression hardly changed at all. Daryl wondered if he already knew from Michonne.

"Is that the problem?" Hershel asked after a moment and Daryl realized he'd been quiet longer than he intended.

Daryl shook his head.

"Well, no…not exactly," he said. "Ya see, I ain't never…well I weren't thinkin' before 'bout kids an' I don't really know if I ever been around nobody that was pregnant…" Daryl realized he was at a complete loss for forming the thoughts he had into anything even semi coherent. "I just don't know how I'm s'posed ta feel or what I'm s'posed ta do. Like Carol was throwin' up this mornin' when I woke up an' she was lookin' a little green around the gills all mornin'…is she sick or is that part a' the whole baby thing?"

Hershel chuckled.

"Could be both," Hershel said. "That I can't know for sure. I can tell you, though, that if you've never been around a pregnant woman before, it's a learning experience."

Daryl wrinkled his brow.

"How so?" Daryl asked.

"Women go through a lot of changes, son," Hershel said. "A lot of them they don't even seem to know about, but that doesn't mean that it makes it any easier on you trying to figure them out. I wouldn't worry about it too much. Just be nice to her, try to do things for her, and sometimes, if you think she's really hard to understand…well, just don't assume that it's you. She might not understand herself."

Daryl didn't like the sound of that. He wasn't sure exactly how many pieces of paper it would take to fill one of those jars, but if things got too complicated they were likely to find out.

Hershel chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it too much," Hershel said. "If she's sick, take care of her. That's all you need to know. Rub her back, bring her water. You'll figure out what you should do. How do you feel about the baby?"

Daryl shrugged.

"I really don't know," Daryl said. "I ain't thought about havin' no kid before."

Hershel nodded.

"Having kids is one of the best things that will ever happen to you," Hershel said. "It's also one of the scariest things, and one of the most complicated. You'll never love anyone like you love your children, Daryl."

"Ya mean like I love Carol?" Daryl asked.

Hershel nodded, shrugging a little.

"It's a different love you'll have for her and you'll have for your children," Hershel said.

"When do I start lovin' it? 'Cause I just found out about it but I don't love it yet," Daryl said.

Hershel chuckled.

"Now that takes time," Hershel said. "When Jo was pregnant the first time I think it was different than all the times after that. Everyone told me I was going to feel a certain way about things at this point or that one. I don't think, though, that I really felt like my son was my son until the day he was born. With the other kids, it was a little different. I was a veteran then, and I knew that one thing led to another. You'll know it when you feel it, though."

Daryl nodded his understanding of what he thought Hershel was trying to say. He really didn't know how he felt right now. Carol didn't look pregnant, at least not what he thought of when someone said a woman was pregnant, and he was having a very hard time believing she was. It wasn't that he thought she was lying, it was just that it didn't seem like something he could really understand right now.

The idea of being a father was an odd one to Daryl as well. He didn't have much to go on there. His old man wasn't exactly a role model and if anything Daryl thought he served better as an idea of what not to do rather than any kind of lesson for Daryl to know what he should do with a kid.

Daryl assumed that Hershel was a good father. All his kids were pretty grown up now and they seemed to have turned out alright. It made him feel a little bit better to think that he could ask Hershel for advice about the whole thing.

"Was there anything else you'd like to talk about, Daryl?" Hershel asked, pulling Daryl out of his thoughts again. Daryl regarded him a moment and shook his head.

"No," Daryl said. "I don't reckon there is."

Hershel nodded.

"Well, if you think of anything, you can talk to me anytime," Hershel said. "And congratulations…you can give my congratulations to Carol Ann too."

Daryl thanked him and headed to his truck. He needed to get by the apartment and pack up some of his stuff to take to the house, and he didn't want to be late and make Carol worry on the first night that he'd changed his mind again.

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Daryl sat at the table holding the little piece of paper. They'd already had dinner and Carol had made meatloaf. Daryl had discovered that he liked meatloaf just as much as he thought he would and Carol told him that she would make him sandwiches, _two_ of them, out of the leftover meatloaf the next day.

Daryl had only put the two slips of paper into her jar during the day. He hadn't really come up with anything else that he thought needed to go in there and she hadn't put anything into his jar. So now, the short conversation about lunch and his thanks for breakfast out of the way, they were sitting at the table and she was showing him this picture that was supposed to be a picture of their kid, except Daryl couldn't see it.

"I still don't see nothin'," Daryl said, turning the piece of paper to see if he had the wrong angle. Carol giggled a little.

"Me either, honestly," Carol said. "I just know that little dot right there is supposed to be the baby," she touched the picture again in the spot that had been touched so many times it was almost just a fingerprint. "I've got to go next week, though, to make sure."

"Make sure a' what?" Daryl asked.

Carol lost the smile that she was wearing and she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at her curls like she sometimes did when she nervous.

"Well, the baby didn't have a heartbeat and they said it could still be early," she said. "So I've got to go and make sure that it was just early."

Daryl wasn't certain what was wrong, but he could tell that her mood had just darkened from the overall mood she'd had all evening.

"Do you wanna tell me why ya makin' that face or I gotta get the cookie jar?" Daryl asked.

Carol snickered.

"It's nothing about you, Daryl," Carol said. "It's just that I'm worried something's going to happen to this baby…I don't want anything to happen."

"What's gonna happen?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged.

"I don't know what could happen," she said. "If it doesn't have a heartbeat then it just means that it didn't make it…I guess nothing happened."

Carol looked like she might start crying. Daryl put the picture down and scooted his chair closer in her direction, putting his arm around her. He didn't have an answer for this because it was a problem he didn't understand in the slightest. At least not one that he could say anything about.

"It's alright," he said. He knew it wasn't worth anything, but it was all he had.

Carol took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah…we'll know next week, right?"

Daryl nodded.

"Was that why ya was sick this mornin'?" He asked.

"I guess," Carol said. "I called the doctor to verify the appointment and I mentioned to the nurse that I was sick and she said I didn't feel that bad…so I don't know if maybe I got some kind of bug or what…"

Daryl didn't know why the nurse would say that. The nurse wasn't at their house and the nurse hadn't seen Carol hugging onto the toilet bowl like Merle used to do when he drank too much. Daryl figured if you felt like hugging the toilet bowl you probably didn't feel real good. When Merle did it he wasn't one bit sorry. He'd gotten himself there by drinking too damn much, but if Carol got there because there was a kid making her sick, then he didn't think a nurse had any right to tell her that she didn't feel bad.

"I don't like ya nurse," Daryl said finally. Carol chuckled.

"It's OK," she said. "I'm just new at this, I guess. I don't know what I'm doing and what I'm supposed to feel like."

"I'm new at it too," Daryl said. He rubbed her back with his hand. "I couldn't even find the kid in the picture."

"I don't think anyone can really see anything in those pictures," Carol said with a sigh. "But I like it anyway."

"Why ya like a picture that don't show nothin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged and leaned her head against him, reaching onto the table and picking the picture up, looking at it.

"I don't know," she said. "It's just kind of reassuring or something. I mean it's a picture and you know the baby's in the picture…even if you can't see it. It just proves that it's there."

Daryl supposed that he could understand that.

He sat there for a few minutes longer still with Carol leaning against him. He thought that Michonne and Andrea would be proud of them. They'd made it through their jar and kept talking…now they were quiet, but Daryl hoped that they didn't actually have to talk all of the time. He'd get tired doing that much talking and he was pretty sure there wasn't that much to say about either of them.

Still, he was there, and they'd had a pretty good evening. It might only be their first full day since they'd had the big talk, but it was something, and he had to admit that it felt pretty good at the moment to just be sitting at the table with Carol leaning into him after a long day of work.


	62. Chapter 62

**AN: So first day back, all that jazz…new schedules, meetings, so much excitement…not really.**

**All tuckered out and just in the mood to bury myself in fics…so here's an update. Two maybe if I'm feeling really enthusiastic?**

**As always, thank you for showering me with the love. It means so much! **

**Hope you enjoy.**

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Andrea sighed as she heaved up the tray of empty beer mugs and abandoned shot glasses. Besides a couple of puddles of spilled drinks, there was nothing on the table and she knew that Mary Ann had made her rounds to this table already collecting the tips. Most of them, of course, would go in the jar, but she knew some went into Mary Ann's pocket and Mary Ann was much better at getting tips off the tables than she was at actually waiting on the customers. Right now she was smarming a few of the half-drunk assholes playing pool.

In all fairness, Andrea knew she wasn't playing fair either. Since Daryl was going to be living with Carol, that cut down on the income in the apartment. Between the bills and trying to pay for her classes too, Andrea was working every extra hour she could at both her jobs. She, too, was sneaking a few of her tips into her pocket and conveniently forgetting to put them in the tip jar, but it wasn't as easy when she worked with Mary Ann as it was when she worked with Loretta.

On the nights that Carol worked with her, Andrea didn't slip the tips into her pockets. Carol was her friend and she knew that the cup didn't runneth over in the household. She also knew that if Daryl and Carol were going to have a baby, they'd need the money too. She could play fair for friends but Loretta got plenty of money from the bar itself, she figured, and Mary Ann didn't need it anyway. The job was something for her to keep her parents off her back and to cover more shopping until school started back in a couple of weeks.

Andrea would be glad to see the little bitch go. That was for sure.

When Andrea returned from the kitchen from having dropped off the dishes, she saw two men come into the bar and sit at one of the end booths, closest to the door. She double stepped to get over there, sashaying her hips as much as she could without throwing one out. She was getting the fucking tip off this table one way or the other.

The men did not belong at the Watering Hole. That was obvious immediately. They weren't from Sweet Junction, either. Andrea smiled at them. Sometimes this happened. Some travel weary person would stop in, not realizing the low quality establishment that they'd chosen to stop at. There weren't a lot of choices, especially not in small towns where most things closed at nine.

Both of the men looked like they were pretty well to do. One, though, looked considerably calmer and probably like he was used to navigating a wide variety of social spheres whereas the other looked like he'd spent a large part of his time locked up in a library somewhere keeping the company of old books.

"What can I get you?" Andrea asked, angling herself toward the more comfortable of the men and leaning on the table just the right way so that her arm thrust her breasts in his direction.

"Scotch, on the rocks," the man said.

"And for you?" Andrea asked, smiling and turning toward the other man but trying her best to keep her cleavage most in view of the man she thought would appreciate it.

"Coke," the man said. Andrea suddenly felt sorry for him. He seemed pretty nervous. She doubted the Watering Hole was his kind of place at all.

"Add a little rum to that for my friend," the other man said.

Andrea looked at the nervous little man.

"No, no thank you," he stuttered out. "Just Coke will be fine."

The other man chuckled.

"Now Milton," he said. "You don't drink just Coke in an establishment such as this. He'll have that with rum."

Andrea stood up and nodded at both of them. She went quickly to get the drinks. She fixed the scotch for the one man, but she didn't add the rum to the Coke. What the booze pushing pal of the nerdy man didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Andrea carried the drinks back quickly.

"Scotch on the rocks," she said, putting the glass in front of the man. "And Coke," she said, sitting the glass in front of his companion. "Easy on the rum," she said, winking at the man. He looked at her more like he was confused than anything, but she assumed that he would figure out her little trick as soon as he tasted the beverage.

"This is a nice place," the man who ordered scotch said. Andrea stood there a moment. Everyone else in the place was pretty well boozed up and working the tables was part of the job. Besides, if she played her cards right she could make a better tip off this man than she could off three of the other tables, and Mary Ann was likely to collect all the other tips before she could get to them anyhow.

"You haven't seen very much if you think that," Andrea said with a smile.

The man chuckled.

"You're not from around here," Andrea said.

The man shook his head.

"I'm Philip Blake," the man said with a smile, "and this is Milton Mamet."

"Andrea Duff," Andrea said. "Passing through or staying a spell?"

"Mmmm…more in the area, I guess you could say," Philip responded. "On business."

"Oh?" Andrea asked. "What kind of businesss?"

Philip chuckled.

"My, aren't you inquisitive?" He said.

Andrea blushed a little. For many of the patrons that stumbled through the doors it didn't matter if you'd asked them to submit to a blood test. They wouldn't have cared. She always hated being caught being nosy, though.

"You mean nosy, right?" She said with a chuckle. "Sorry, it's almost part of the job description."

"And a charming part," Philip said. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Andrea," Andrea responded.

"And who's the young lady over there?" Philip asked.

Andrea glanced slightly over her shoulder and grimaced at Mary Ann.

"Her name is Mary Ann," she responded dryly. "And now look who's inquisitive…" She smiled at him.

Philip smiled.

"My apologies," he said.

"No worries," Andrea said. "Can I get you anything else or do you just want to drink in private?"

"We're fine for the moment," Philip said.

Andrea nodded and left the table, going about her rounds of cleaning up, especially since Mary Ann never seemed to have the ability to bus any of the tables. From time to time Andrea stopped to fill a drink order or have a spot of conversation, but she kept her eye on the table where Philip and Milton were sitting. After some time, Philip raised his glass at her and she almost jogged in his direction, hoping Mary Ann didn't realize she was stalking this particular table in hopes of a tip that would make up for the rest of the otherwise shitty night.

"Refill?" Andrea asked, smiling.

"Yes," Philip said.

"You?" Andrea asked, turning her attention to Milton. He swallowed and waved his hands as though he was horrified and she wondered if he'd figured out that his drink was nothing more than a regular Coke.

"No, no, I'm fine," Milton said. "Where's your restroom?"

Andrea chuckled a little. She turned around and pointed.

"Over there, far wall…go around that little corner. But I'd recommend stepping outside honestly, around the side of the building. Depends on how brave of a man you are, Milton," Andrea said. Milton looked far more horrified than he had over the prospect of rum and sat still. She assumed that meant he wasn't brave enough for either option. She turned her attention back to Philip and smiled, taking his glass. "I'll be right back," she said.

"Oh," he said, she turned. He reached his hand out to her. "A little something for the lovely lady," he said, smiling.

Andrea looked at his hand, annoyed at yet another patron who would gladly accept her attention when it came to their drinks but was interested in giving their tips to Mary Ann to see if she'd pay some attention to their dicks. She tried not to look as pissed off as she suddenly was. She pasted on her best waitress smile.

"You'll have to pass it to her yourself," Andrea said, trying not to growl. "I'll be right back with your drink."

"I think you misunderstand," Philip said with a chuckle. "I meant for you."

Andrea was shocked. It took her a moment to collect her facial expression together again and smile once more. She stepped forward, taking the folded bill that the man held between his fingers.

"Thank you," she said. "I'll get your drink."

She smiled and went to refill his drink. Behind the bar she snuck a quick glance at the bill and discovered it was a twenty. She couldn't remember ever getting a twenty before. She slipped it into her pocket as secretively as possible. She looked back at the man and he was talking to his nervous little friend. The tip could very well be a test to see if she'd be willing to perform other services for him. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been offered money.

The way she saw it was, the money was hers now. He'd find out later that he wasn't receiving any additional service beyond waiting his table and providing him with a little charming conversation if it pleased him.

Andrea took the glass back to the table and sat it in front of the man.

"Is this a nice little town?" Philip asked.

Andrea smiled. She shrugged a little.

"Sweet Junction's a little town, that's about it," Andrea said. "I guess parts of it are nice, others not so much."

Philip nodded a little and sipped the scotch. Andrea cast her glances at Milton. She wondered if he really had to go to the bathroom or if the man always looked that uncomfortable.

"Have you worked here long?" Philip asked.

"Longer than I care to admit," Andrea said with a smile.

Philip sat back in the booth, holding the scotch glass in his hand. Andrea didn't miss that he gave her a very evident once over, but she was more than accustomed to such things.

"You don't look like the kind that would wait tables," Philip said. "I could see you being a doctor's wife…a lawyer's wife…maybe a student yourself."

Andrea smiled. He was laying it on thick. So thick, in fact, that she doubted it could have been any thicker if he'd come in with a shovel. Still, she was willing to humor him for the twenty in her pocket. She'd done worse in her life.

"I am a student, actually," she said.

"Let me guess," Philip said, sipping at his glass. "Psychology?"

"Close enough," Andrea said. "Cosmetology."

Philip chuckled. He looked around the bar at the customers that were very unlike him. Many of them were, perhaps, interested in the same thing he was at the moment, but they were more straightforward about it, Andrea thought. Whereas he was attempting to use every ounce of charm he had and more than willing to dig in his pockets, the men around were more the kind to offer you a five and ask you point blank to sit on their face. They assumed, probably much like Mr. Philip Blake, that any woman working in an atmosphere such as this had maybe only enough self-respect to fill a thimble.

Andrea could play that card…to a point. She always knew right when to fold her hand.

"So, Andrea, how did you end up in this little town?" Philip asked.

"Not on business," Andrea said, smiling.

Philip smiled.

"Speaking of business," he said, leaning on the table a little and putting his glass down. "Anything I shouldn't miss while I'm in the area?"

Andrea leaned on the table then, glancing momentarily over her shoulder to see if there was any indication that anyone needed anything, but it looked as though everyone was sufficiently saturated for the moment and the table that Mary Ann was entertaining was certainly amused enough for the time being.

"Area's small enough you could miss the whole thing," Andrea said. "I wouldn't say we're exactly known for our historical points of interest."

Andrea wondered what kind of business the man was there on, but he'd seemed to make it clear that he wouldn't be disclosing that information. Sweet Junction didn't exactly attract a lot of business men…at least not unless they were literally passing through on their way to some place bigger and better. There weren't a lot of businesses in the area that weren't completely local. The only businesses that might bring in a person or two tended to be the mills in the area or the plants, and Andrea could tell from a mile away that Philip Blake wasn't a mill worker…though she supposed he could be, if she had to venture out, a new manager or something. He seemed the type that would be used to working with people. She had no idea, though, where his friend Milton fit into the equation.

"Hmmm…" he said, looking at his glass. He finished off the contents. "I suppose, then, that I'll just have to see what I can find for myself."

"How long will you be staying in the area?" Andrea asked.

Philip smiled.

"It's hard to tell," he said. "I do a lot of traveling."

Andrea nodded a little.

"Another drink?" She asked.

He looked at the glass a little remorsefully. She glanced at Milton who had barely touched the Coke that he apparently feared to be spiked. The poor man still looked uncomfortable.

"No," Philip said with a smile. "I think that's enough for the evening. Don't want to get out of hand, you know?"

"That's not exactly our motto around here," Andrea said.

Philip pulled his wallet out and dropped some bills on the table.

"That should cover it. Consider the rest a tip," he said.

Andrea thought about pointing out that he'd already tipped her, but she decided she'd be nice and contribute the extra to the jars that lied considerably about how much money was left behind by patrons.

She waited a moment, expecting the man to make some kind of off color suggestion for the money that he'd given her, but he simply got out of the booth and the nervous Milton followed behind him.

"Charming to meet you," Philip said. "If I'm in the area for long I'll be sure to pass through again."

Andrea nodded at him, noticing that Milton had already made a beeline for the door.

"Nice to meet you too," Andrea said. "Enjoy Sweet Junction."

Philip smiled again.

"I'm sure I will," he said. He turned then and slipped out the door.

Andrea wondered about the man for a moment longer but put him out of her mind as just another of the interesting characters that sometimes passed through with dirt from the road still clinging to the bottom of their shoes. She gathered up the glasses, careful not to spill the Coke that was left almost full, and picked up the money. She brought them to the back, rang out the strange man's tab, dropped the extra money in the tip jar and went back to worrying about the regular patrons of the Watering Hole that would leave a sorry tip for a sloppy ass grab.


	63. Chapter 63

**AN: So here we go. It's late, but I got this out. I thought I'd go ahead and put it up for you guys that might want to read it tomorrow (or tonight if you're not going off to bed). **

**Thank you for your comments on the last chapter. We'll be hearing more about Philip Blake in the future. ;-) **

**Hope you enjoy! **

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Daryl scratched the back of his neck and leaned uncomfortably back in his chair. The cookie jars were on the table and the little pieces of paper had been sorted. He had one, though, that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about.

"What'cha want me ta do?" He asked. "I'm askin' ya."

"Nothing," Carol said, "nevermind. I shouldn't have put it in the jar."

Daryl wrinkled his brow. The jars were supposed to make them talk about everything. Michonne said stupid and silly things counted too. They hadn't really had all that many pieces of paper to appear in the jars, but this one had him stumped. Carol put in there that she was worried about the baby. He knew she was worried, she'd said it more than once, but he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do about it.

"I just don't know what'cha want me ta do about it," Daryl protested. "If ya can tell me what ta do ta make ya feel better I can try ta do it, but I don't know the right answer here."

"Well my appointment's tomorrow," Carol said. "I guess it's just been on my mind all day."

"So? What? Ya want me ta go with ya?" Daryl asked. He had to work the next day, but he figured that Hershel would understand if he told him that Carol wanted him to go with her to the doctor's office. He could take the day off and make it up this weekend if there was anything urgent that needed to get done.

Carol picked at the corner of the table and didn't look at him.

"I asked if ya want me ta go with ya," Daryl repeated. He was beginning to wonder sometimes if he ought to ask the doctor to have a look at Carol's ears because he wasn't always certain that she could hear that well.

"I do and I don't," Carol said.

Daryl frowned. That didn't seem like a cookie jar answer to him.

"Well I can't do both," he said. Carol had worried over this appointment so much that he was ready for it to be over with.

"Can I take a shower?" Carol asked suddenly.

Daryl wrinkled his brow.

"It's jar time," he said.

"I know," Carol said. "But we've finished everything in the jars…except that one…and I just really want to take a shower."

"Right now? Ya gotta take one right now?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

"So am I goin' or ain't I goin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked like she was going to cry. She didn't often cry, but she screwed her face up like that every now and again. Then she'd usually straighten it back out before much of anything happened.

"Can I take a shower?" Carol repeated.

"Ya wanna answer the question after ya shower?" Daryl asked. Carol nodded. "Ya want me ta shower with ya?" Carol shook her head. Daryl had figured as much. He sighed. "Go ahead, take ya shower," he said.

Carol got up quickly from the table and disappeared into the bedroom. Daryl sighed and collected up all the scraps of paper, leaving that one on the table so he wouldn't forget that he had to ask her about it after she got through with her urgent shower. He threw the scraps away and put the cookie jars back, wondering if he should go ahead and add a piece for tomorrow night about how he didn't like when he couldn't understand why she suddenly had other things to do like shower. She didn't even smell bad.

Daryl decided, though, that he wasn't prepared to solve this dilemma on his own. He picked up the phone and crossed the kitchen, dialing Michonne's number off of the refrigerator. She was the one that he was supposed to go to with baby problems, unless he thought it was a man problem, and then he was supposed to talk to Hershel. He thought this might be a woman problem, though, because he didn't understand one damn bit how he was supposed to go somewhere and not go all at the same time.

"Hello?" Michonne answered. Daryl could hear a lot of noise in the background.

"What'cha doin'?" He asked.

"Daryl?" Michonne asked.

"Yeah," Daryl said.

Michonne sighed and he wondered if he was bothering her.

"I'm trying to give the girl's a bath," Michonne responded. "Is something wrong?"

Daryl almost laughed. He didn't know if Michonne thought that he'd be calling just to chat, but that really wasn't his intention.

"Gotta problem," he said.

"Well what is it, Daryl?" Michonne asked. He considered for a moment that Michonne needed a cookie jar because he'd ask her why she told him to call her if she was going to sound like she didn't want him to call her.

"Carol's got a doctor's appointment tomorrow," Daryl said.

"I know that," Michonne responded.

"Well, she put in the jar that she's worried about it an' so we tried ta talk about it, but she had ta take a shower," Daryl said.

"How long has she been in the shower?" Michonne asked.

Daryl shrugged, but then realized that Michonne couldn't see him.

"Since I was talkin' ta you," Daryl said. "She said she wants me ta go, but she don't want me ta go. So does that mean I go or I don't go?"

Michonne chuckled.

"It means you go," Michonne said. "But keep talking to her, find out why she doesn't want you to go before you insist that you're going. The answer to that question is that you're always going. When you get off the phone with me, you also need to go and make sure she's actually showering…Carol has a tendency to hide in strange places."

Daryl wrinkled his brow.

"OK," he said.

"And Daryl," Michonne said. He could hear a good deal of splashing on the end of the line and he wondered how much effort was involved in giving kids baths because it almost sounded like Michonne was swimming.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"If anything should go wrong tomorrow, you need to be very, very, very supportive," Michonne said.

"How so?" Daryl asked.

"I don't know…you'll have to figure that out for yourself," Michonne said. "Lots of hugs…backrubs…saying nice things. You've just got to be really, really nice and really supportive. Can you handle that?" Michonne asked.

"I reckon," Daryl said.

"Good," Michonne responded. "Now I've got to get the girls out and in bed, so was there anything else?"

"I don't think so," Daryl said.

"Goodnight then, Daryl. Go get Carol out of the shower," Michonne said.

"Thank ya. Night," Daryl replied. He hung up the phone and considered calling Hershel but decided it would probably be better in the morning. People sounded edgy when you called them at night.

Daryl made his way to the bedroom and through to the bathroom to get Carol out of the shower. She was in the shower and the water was running, though, so he wasn't sure if he should drag her out or just let her come out on her own.

"Ya comin' out soon?" Daryl called.

"Almost done," Carol called back. Daryl sat down on the toilet and pulled the shower curtain back a bit, peeking in. Carol looked to be legitimately showering, not hiding.

"Why don't'cha want me ta come with ya tomorrow?" Daryl asked.

"I just don't think it'll be very comfortable for you, Daryl," Carol said. "It would be better if I went alone. I'll see you when you get home from work."

Daryl chewed at his thumb.

"I'm goin' with ya," he said. "Ya worried 'bout it an' I'm goin' with ya."

The water turned off then and a moment later Carol got out of the tub. She pulled the towel off the towel rack and stood just in front of Daryl drying off. He tried not to look at her too much. She wasn't a big fan of his right now physically and he didn't feel like spending more time with a raging hard on than he absolutely had to…at least not until she acted like she was in the mood to fix it for him.

"Why? You're just going to be uncomfortable," Carol said. "I don't want to deal with that."

She hung the towel back up and went into the bedroom. Daryl got up and followed after her. He wasn't exactly sure how to argue his point, but he knew from Michonne that his point was that he was going. He was pretty sure Carol was right, and he was going to feel pretty damn out of place, but he was going.

"I'm goin'," he stated again. He hoped if he kept saying it then it would be a good enough argument that it would just sort of work itself out.

Carol slipped into her panties and pulled the t shirt she'd been sleeping in for two nights out from under her pillow. She pulled it on. She turned around and looked at him for a moment.

"I'm going to bed," she said. "Are you staying up or do I turn everything off?"

Daryl shrugged. He wasn't really ready for bed, but they didn't have a television and there wasn't anything to do in the house if you were alone.

"I'm goin' ta bed with ya," Daryl said. He followed Carol through the house and waited beside her while she let Lincoln out in the yard. "I'm goin' with ya tomorrow," Daryl said.

"Why is this so important to you?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"My kid ain't it?" He asked.

Carol bit her lip and called Lincoln in. She didn't say anything as she crossed the kitchen and got him a treat, making sure that everything was turned off and the doors were locked. Daryl followed her back to the bedroom. He was thankful that she'd thought to plug in little night lights here and there because Lincoln could be lethal when he had an inclination to take off for the bedroom. He'd plow your feet out from under you like he was afraid you were going to beat him to the room.

"Maybe if you stayed in the waiting room…" Carol said.

"What?" Daryl asked. He circled around to his side of the bed, although he noticed that their sides, although theoretically designated, changed on Carol's whims. He crawled into the bed and before he could get situated Lincoln bounded up his little steps and landed beside him almost with a thud, his head on the pillow beside Daryl. Daryl pushed him farther down. Carol got in her side of the bed then. Daryl decided to leave the little lamp on, though, until she was done talking.

"I think it would be better if you went, but you stayed in the waiting room," Carol said. She rolled on her side facing him.

"I can do that," Daryl said. "If that's what ya want me ta do."

"Well," Carol said, "that way you're there, but you're not in there…and you won't be freaked out or anything. And you'll be there when I get out."

"If that's what ya want," Daryl said, "then I'm gonna go an' sit in the waitin' room."

Carol was quiet for a minute, stroking Lincoln's back.

"That's what I want," Carol said.

"Then that's what we gonna do," Daryl said. "What time ya gotta be there?"

"Ten," Carol responded. "I'll make breakfast in the morning."

"I gotta call Hershel," Daryl said.

"If it's going to be a problem missing work," Carol said, "then it's not a big deal if you don't go. I don't want you to get in trouble with Hershel."

Daryl chuckled. Carol didn't know that Hershel was trying to help him out with everything that he didn't have a fucking clue about.

"Hershel ain't gonna care," he said. "Ain't gonna be no problem. I done told ya I'm goin' an' I'm gonna wait for ya. Just gotta call Hershel so he don't think I died or somethin' an' didn't show up for work."

Carol nodded a little. Daryl smiled at her reached over, touching her face. He didn't know how long it was going to take before she felt real friendly with him again, but he was willing to wait it out.

"Can I kiss ya?" He asked.

Carol nodded and Daryl rolled over and sat up. Carol came up too and met him, since Lincoln certainly wasn't volunteering to change his spot with anyone, despite the fact that he was in the middle of them and creating some kind of great divide.

The kiss was soft and Daryl teased her with his tongue a little, but she wasn't responding enthusiastically, so he stopped and ended with only the soft kind of kiss that she gave him when she was in a hurry. He could tell when he looked at her face that she was worried and he wished he knew what to do to make it better. He didn't have any answers though, and nothing he said was really going to work since he'd tried everything he could think of so far and he'd only kept failing at making the look go away when she scrunched her eyebrows up like that.

"Ya ready for me ta cut the light off?" He asked.

"Yeah," Carol said, laying her head back on her pillow. Daryl rolled over and switched the lamp off, making sure the alarm clock was set, which it almost always was. One of them always had to be up and the past couple of days Carol had been up before the alarm went off anyway. She was busy not feeling bad…or at least that's what Daryl was jokingly calling it from her constant insistence that she was fine.

Daryl laid his head back on his own pillow and sighed.

"Thank you," Carol said, after a minute.

"For what?" He asked.

"For going with me," she responded.

Daryl chuckled a little to himself. If she was thanking him, then that meant that she'd wanted him to go, but he couldn't figure out why she wouldn't just say that from the beginning. He thought that was the whole point of the cookie jars and the conversations at night after dinner. They were supposed to tell the truth.

Daryl considered bringing it up, but he decided that might just be something to go into the jar. Right now wasn't a good time. The cookie jar conversation was over for the night and she'd been wearing that worried face. It would be a better idea not to talk about the fact that she needed to be less confusing. It could wait until after she wasn't so worried.

"Ain't no problem," Daryl said. "Get some sleep. Ya gonna be up early."

Carol groaned and Daryl stifled a chuckle.

He didn't know what would happen the next day, and he had to admit that he wasn't so much worried, at least not the way that Carol was worried as he was simply nervous. She was worried that something was going to happen to the baby, but he wasn't worried about that. He didn't know if he was wrong about it or not, but he figured if something did happen, then they'd just have another baby later.

He was nervous, though, about what might happen. He didn't know what to expect from the entire event, and even though he'd just be waiting for her, he didn't really know what he was waiting on. Now that he'd talked to Michonne, he knew he was going to have to be really supportive if something happened and he was going to have to figure out what that meant and what was the right thing to say or do.

If Carol was this worried about it, and she had been for days, then it was a huge deal to her. If he failed at being supportive, then he could really fuck up all the way around, and he didn't really want to do something else to fuck up right now. He'd much rather figure out how to do it right and give her whatever it was that she needed out of him.

If he got really lucky, though, then nothing would be wrong and he wouldn't have to figure out how to be supportive because everything would be good.

He might just be waiting on her tomorrow, but he knew that he was going to be spending his whole time worrying that he wasn't going to know what to do when he was done waiting.

Daryl lie there for a little while just staring up in the darkness and thinking about things. He could hear Lincoln sleeping and he wondered if he was the only one in the room asleep right now. Carol was tired from waking up early in the mornings and not sleeping well at night because she worried. He had a feeling that tomorrow wasn't going to be any different.

"Ya sleepin'?" He asked softly.

"Not yet," Carol answered.

"Me neither," Daryl said.

"It's going to be hard for either of us to sleep if we keep pointing out that we're not sleeping," Carol said.

Daryl supposed that she was right. He rolled over, balled his pillow up under his head, and closed his eyes. He hoped that he fell asleep soon, and he hoped that she did too, and he hoped they made it through the next day without any problems that were too big for the cookie jars to handle.


	64. Chapter 64

**AN: Just a little tidbit, mostly written over coffee this morning, for you all. Depending on the rest of the day, I may have something out later. Hope you're having a lovely day.**

**Enjoy and as always your reviews are appreciated and loved! **

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Daryl sat in the doctor's office and really wasn't sure what to do to pass the time. They'd gotten up early. Carol had obviously not even slept as much as he had and she was quiet pretty much the whole morning. She didn't feel well at all when she got up so Daryl had let Lincoln outside so he'd leave her alone and gotten himself dressed, asking her more than once if she wanted him to do anything. She'd eventually given up trying to be sick, though, declaring that she was fine.

Daryl didn't think she looked fine at all. She was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes that were evidence of her lack of sleep. She made breakfast while he called Hershel. The old man didn't mind at all that Daryl wasn't coming in to work because of the doctor's appointment and told him that there really wasn't much going on anyway and Daryl didn't need to make the day up over the weekend unless he really needed the hours. Daryl figured he could get back to him on that. They hadn't exactly gotten around to discussing their financial situation in any great detail and this morning just didn't seem like the time to bring anything up.

This morning's breakfast had been pretty much the longest one in the history of the world. They had a lot of time to kill and not a lot of stuff to make it pass, especially since Carol just looked like she'd rather sleep at the kitchen table than do anything else.

When they'd finally gotten to the doctor's office, Daryl had sat with Carol in one of the chairs in the waiting room until they'd called her back. She wasn't really talking, so he just told her he'd be waiting there and watched as one of the nurses, one with a nice face…so he didn't suspect that she was the nurse he didn't like who thought that Carol wasn't sick…took her away.

And now there was a lot of time to kill. Daryl didn't know how long it was supposed to take, that hadn't been exactly explained, but he knew from the clock on the wall that it had already been at least thirty minutes and there was only so much to stare at in the doctor's office.

Like most places in Sweet Junction, the doctor's office wasn't a really huge affair. It was just a general office. The people in the place were a mixed bag of people and Daryl assumed that if he'd lived there and knew the residents of the town better than he did, he could probably put a name and a story to everyone in the room. There was a woman sitting in one corner that had a little boy curled up in her lap. At first glance Daryl could tell it was the kid who was sick because he only wanted to sit in her lap and try to sleep against her chest. Daryl figured that most kids his size wouldn't be trying to sleep all day in their mama's lap if they didn't feel bad.

There was an elderly couple there as well. Daryl watched them for a bit. The man disappeared with one of the nurses after a little while, though, and the old woman took some yarn out of her bag and started making something, obviously trying to pass the time like Daryl was attempting to do. He watched her for a little while, but then her repetitive actions with the yarn started to make him sleepy.

At intervals Daryl glanced at the clock and at other times he watched the hustle and bustle of people that passed in and out of the waiting room. Some went back after Carol and were back and leaving before her. Daryl didn't know if that was normal or not.

Finally he got up and crossed the room to a small bookshelf that was there and loaded down with magazines. He flipped through them but there wasn't really much that he wanted to read. There were some with old people on the front and he didn't have much interest in that, but most of the others looked more like magazines that would interest Carol than him. There were crafty ones and baby ones…he finally settled on one that was a book of puzzles instead of a magazine for reading.

He sat down with the book and realized most of the puzzles were done, but there were a few that weren't done and he'd go crazy if he didn't do something to kill some time. Daryl didn't have anything to write with, so he finally approached the desk.

"May I help you?" The woman behind the desk asked, smiling. Daryl smiled back at her.

"Uh…ya got a pen or a pencil or somethin'?" Daryl asked.

"Sure," the woman said. She produced a pen and Daryl took it, thanking her quickly. He hesitated for a moment, but she'd been one of the few people that he'd seen in there that looked nice and not just exhausted.

"Um…can I ask about somebody?" Daryl asked.

The woman looked at him and wrinkled her brow a bit. She nodded.

"I'll tell you what I can," the woman said. She smiled slightly. Daryl nodded in response.

"Carol went back a good bit ago and I ain't seen nothin', is she s'posed ta still be back there?" Daryl asked.

He was trying to figure out if he should go ahead and start worrying about how he was supposed to be supportive or if there was still a chance that everything was OK.

"Carol?" The woman asked.

For a fleeting second it worried Daryl that the woman didn't know what he was talking about, but he figured then that she probably wasn't as tuned into his problems as he was.

"Carol Peletier," Daryl said.

A look flashed across the woman's face for a moment and then she glanced at something on the computer in front of her. After a second she smiled again, the same warm one she was wearing when he asked her about the pen in his hand.

"Carol McAlister," the woman said. Daryl hadn't really spent a whole lot of time thinking about Carol's last name, but he assumed that McAlister was more than likely her name before she married Ed, and now that she wasn't married, it must be her name again. He turned it over in his mind a couple of times while the woman looked at her computer screen. Daryl wanted to make sure he remembered the last name in case he needed to use it again. "She's in with Dr. Stephens," the woman said.

That didn't do a thing for Daryl. He knew she was in with the doctor…that was the whole reason he was here with her and the whole reason that he was in the waiting room thinking about doing puzzles in an almost spent book.

"Is she OK?" Daryl asked.

The woman smiled and shook her head a little.

"I don't know any of that information, sir. All I can tell you is that she's in with the doctor," she said.

Daryl nodded his head a little and thanked her. He went and sat down again. He glanced at the clock again, but he'd already forgotten now what time they asked her to go with them. He glanced around at a few more faces that had appeared in the waiting room and shifted in his seat a little. He couldn't help but that think that this office seemed like the busiest place he'd been to in the whole town. Apparently there wasn't much to do around here that was more exciting than getting sick.

Daryl sat back in the uncomfortable chair and opened the book up to a word search puzzle that wasn't done. He was pretty good at those kinds of puzzles, and he had time to kill, so he let himself get lost in searching for the list of words they provided. He liked those puzzles since they gave him the words, and even if he didn't know what some of them meant, he could still find them in the block of letters given enough patience.

Daryl was so focused on the puzzle that he jumped when someone touched him on the shoulder.

"Daryl Dixon?" The nurse asked. It was the same nurse that had taken Carol back earlier.

"Yeah," he stammered, still regaining himself from being caught offguard. The woman smiled.

"Carol would like you to come back," the woman said. Daryl got to his feet quickly and left the book and pen in his chair. He realized his heart was pounding. He thought the nurse could probably hear it if she was listening for it.

"She OK?" Daryl asked, following the nurse back down a labyrinth of little hallways, the stinging smell of disinfectant burning his nose.

The nurse turned back to him and smiled warmly. He liked this nurse, whichever one she was.

"She's just fine," the woman said. "Just a little shaky and we thought you might should help her out to the car. She's ready to go when she's dressed. You just need to take her by the desk. All her information is up there."

Daryl didn't have time to ask the nurse anything else. She opened the door to a room and smiled at him again, squeezing the top of his arm before she turned around and slipped back into the small labyrinth surrounding them.

Daryl took a second to get his breath and tried to get his mind ready. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do or what he was supposed to say, but he was going to give it the best shot he had.

When he walked in the door, Carol was sitting on the same kind of standard exam table he'd seen in every other doctor's office in his life. She was clutching the edge of it, still wearing one of the gowns that tie in the back that Daryl assumed every medical facility in the world must buy in bulk. She wasn't looking at him the moment he walked in, but her facial expression was similar to the one she'd been wearing that morning while she'd insisted that she really wasn't going to throw up.

Daryl could only assume that things were not what she expected them to be. He walked into the room, hoping that hugs really could solve this problem. Carol looked up at him when he walked in, her mouth open again. She looked like she was having trouble breathing. He crossed quickly and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing, her face leaning into his chest.

"It's OK," he said, rubbing her back. He knew he was going to have to get her to put her clothes on and everything, but he figured for at least a minute he could he try the supportive thing here. He was a little disappointed in himself, though. He'd come up with a few not so bad ideas about what to say to be supportive, but for the life of him he couldn't remember anything. Carol leaning against him, shaking and squeezing him, wiped out everything that he'd come up with.

Daryl was a little annoyed at the nurse. She'd said that Carol was fine and this didn't exactly seem fine to him. He felt like that was one of the problems with medical people. Either you were dead or you were fine and they seemed to forget that there were a whole lot of other things that fell between the two extremes.

"It's fine," Daryl repeated.

Carol was calming down a little now, though he felt an occasional gentle tremor run through her. She pulled away from him, wiping at her eyes a little and he assumed she may have been crying.

"Ya better? Ya need ta get dressed," Daryl said. He figured if he could get her dressed then he could take her to the house and she could do all the crying that she wanted to do there. He also had the option when she was there of calling Michonne if things got bad and he needed some backup in figuring out what to do to fix it.

"It's OK," Carol said.

Daryl nodded.

"Ya right, it's OK," Daryl said. He looked around trying to find her clothes and finally found everything she had come in with piled on a chair. He picked it up and closed the room to the door, circling around and bringing it to her.

"No," Carol said. "It's OK…it's OK."

Daryl decided that a side of insanity might go along with whatever Carol was going through.

"It's OK," he repeated. "Get'cha clothes on an' we goin' home."

Carol's eyes widened a little and she nodded at him, finally making some move to start putting on her clothes.

"The baby, Daryl," Carol said. "It's OK."

Daryl knitted his eyebrows.

"It's OK?" He asked.

She nodded. Then was the first time that she smiled, though her eyes were still wide like they'd been earlier. She slipped off the table, pulling on her clothes and he stood close to her since she seemed a little shaky and he didn't want her busting her head open or something…though they were in the best place they could be if she did decide to bust her head open.

"Wasn't that what ya wanted?" Daryl asked. Carol was pulling on her bra now. "Why ya upset?"

"I don't know…" Carol said. "I mean yes that's what I want…but I just couldn't stop myself. I just don't know…I wasn't expecting it."

Daryl was glad that the baby was fine and that's what Carol wanted, but he had no idea why it was that she'd been shaking like she was, and still seemed a little shaky, if the answer the doctor had given her was the one that she'd been hoping for. He decided this was maybe one of the things that Hershel had talked about, though. It was one of those things that he was better off not trying to understand because maybe she didn't understand it either.

"Ain't no need ta be upset now," Daryl said. "Ya fine, it's fine, an' we goin' home."

Daryl waited until Carol was dressed. She looked around awkwardly for a moment and he didn't know what she was looking for until she started across the room. He followed after her and she got her purse off the chair, pulling it onto her shoulder. Daryl wrapped his arm around her, still not entirely sure that she was stable enough to really be standing and walking around on her own, and they started down through the labyrinth together with Daryl supporting her slightly, his arm around her back, and her guiding them both through the halls.

They ran into the smiling nurse from earlier and she stopped them, putting her hand on Carol's arm.

"Feeling better?" She asked.

Carol nodded.

"I'm sorry," Carol said, shaking her head.

The woman smiled. Daryl read that her name was Constance. He decided he'd remember her name because so far she was his favorite of the nurses simply because she smiled a lot more than anyone else in the building.

"It's OK," Constance said. "Believe me, we see everything. You're not the first woman I've seen get upset, and you won't be the last. The baby's fine, though, and now you just need to relax. Go home, get something to eat, get some rest, and congratulations."

Carol smiled and thanked Constance and Daryl nodded at her. He waited a moment while she squeezed Carol's arm again and then walked in the opposite direction.

Daryl led Carol to the front desk and waited while she filled out some things. The woman behind the desk flipped through a folder and handed Carol a few things and then Daryl walked her out to the truck and helped her in.

Daryl wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say. He supposed that he should say that he was happy about the baby, but the reality was that he couldn't honestly say that. He wasn't happy about it and he wasn't unhappy about it. He was indifferent to the whole idea more than anything. He was relieved that, for Carol's sake, everything was fine, but he was fairly certain that wasn't what he should say either.

"How ya feelin'?" Daryl asked, glancing over to the passenger side of the truck where Carol was sitting, looking through the folder. He could see at a glance she had another one of the pictures that he couldn't tell a thing about.

"I'm…I'm fine," Carol said.

"Hungry?" Daryl asked. He wondered if Carol might be more interested in food now that she wasn't worried so much.

"Yeah," Carol said. She was still fumbling through the things in the folder that she had. Daryl didn't think that there was much in there, but he wasn't going to tell her that she couldn't flip through it as many times at she pleased.

"Wanna go ta Lula's?" Daryl asked. He knew there were a few other eating establishments in Sweet Junction, including the place that Andrea worked at, but he knew that Lula's was best if you weren't sure what you might want.

"I think I'd rather just eat something at home," Carol said. "If that's alright with you."

"Fine with me," Daryl said. He wasn't rocking the boat at all. If she wanted to eat sandwiches at the house, there was absolutely no problem there. She'd finally calmed down and that was about all he needed her to do right this minute.

"I'm really tired," Carol said suddenly, closing her folder and leaning back in the seat. Daryl chuckled a little.

"After ya eat somethin' we could take a nap," he offered. "I didn't sleep a whole bunch neither last night."

He glanced over and Carol smiled at him.

"I'd like that," she said.

At the house Daryl offered to make sandwiches. Carol wouldn't give in, though, so he finally agreed to her suggestion that they make them together. He noticed that she stuck the picture from the day to the corkboard on the side of the refrigerator, the same place they'd tacked up the phone numbers that they regularly needed.

They sat down and ate, but there wasn't much conversation between them. Daryl was feeling exhausted, and from the looks of her, Carol wasn't exactly hanging onto a waking state by much. While Carol wiped down the dishes from lunch, Daryl took Lincoln out, and then he followed her to the bedroom in hopes of the nap they both needed desperately. Carol almost collapsed into bed, stripping out of her clothes as she went until nothing but her shirt and underwear remained. Not interested in guarding any decorum himself, Daryl stripped to his underwear and crawled in bed beside her. It didn't matter to either one of them that it wasn't exactly a normal hour to collapse into bed.

As Daryl lie there, Carol eased over to him as though she might lie against him. She looked at him a little strange, almost as if asking permission, and he smiled, scooting himself toward her and opening his arms in her direction. She smiled and slid next to him wrapping her arms around him and throwing one leg over his, trapping him in a giant hug.

Daryl was willing to ignore the fact that it wasn't the most comfortable position in the world. Just having her there, pressed against him, was enough to make up for the discomfort. She snuggled into him, kissing his chest. Obviously already well on her way to falling asleep.

"So everything's OK, huh?" Daryl asked, keeping his voice low. Carol snuggled against him a little more, rooting into him.

"Yeah," she said, her voice already sounding sleepy. "Baby's OK."

"An' how you feel?" He asked.

"Sleepy," Carol replied. "But happy."

Daryl smiled to himself, pulling her just a little tighter. He kissed the top of her head, smelling her shampoo and the scent of whatever perfume it was that she put on before they left that morning. He loved the smell of her. Whether it was right out of the shower or when she complained of smelling bad after work, he thought she always smelled good. She smelled comfortable to him.

"How do you feel about it," Carol asked.

Daryl thought about it for a moment. From what Hershel had told him, he didn't think his somewhat indifferent feeling was a bad thing. It just meant that he hadn't found the place that Hershel said he would get to. Eventually he'd love the kid, he just wasn't there yet. He had the feeling, though, that Carol might not like it too much if he said that, so he decided to just fib his way through it a little…just until the feeling did come.

"I'm happy," he said. It wasn't a lie. He was happy. He was happy that she was happy and that she wasn't worrying like she had been. He was also very happy that she was snuggling against him right now instead of making him wonder if she was ever going to forgive him enough to let him really touch her again. He felt like, in saying he was happy, he hadn't lied at all. He just didn't need to explain to her that for him whether or not the baby was OK hadn't meant all that much to him…not as far as the baby was concerned…it had only really been important to him because of how much it meant to her.

"Are you sure?" Carol asked. "You're really happy?"

Daryl smiled to himself and kissed the top of her head again, breathing in her scent. He sighed a little, feeling like sleep wouldn't be too far away.

"I'm sure," he said. "I'm happy."

Carol sighed.

"Get some sleep, OK?" Daryl said. "I reckon a nap'd do us both good."

"Mmm…" Carol hummed. "Maybe all three of us," she said.

Daryl lie there a moment.

"Hm…" he responded. "Reckon ya might be right…all three of us," he said. It was a strange concept, and one that he knew he still had to think about for a while, but Daryl had to admit that he didn't entirely hate the sound of that.

He yawned and closed his eyes, trying to focus more on the fact that Carol was already starting to breathe steadily, pressed against him, and less on the fact that his arm would probably be asleep before long. He knew he'd rather tolerate the numbness than ask her to move. He'd rather tolerate a lot, in that moment, than ask her to move.


	65. Chapter 65

**AN: Long day here…so I'm curling up with some Sweet Junction, LOL. Might get a second chapter out tonight…we'll see.**

**As always, thanks for your comments. I'm glad to see that everyone has well wishes for Baby Dixon.**

**Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

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"Well, I haven't heard from either of them," Michonne told Tyreese, coming into the living room and sitting on the floor beside him where he was sitting with his back against the couch. "That either means things went really well or they went really bad."

"If you're that worried about it," Tyreese said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him. "Then why don't you just call and find out?"

"I can't do that…" Michonne said.

"Why not?" Tyreese tugged at her again and she finally lifted herself over his leg and sat between them, her back against his chest.

"Because…if everything went fine then it's great that I called, but if something went really wrong then Carol might not be in the right place to talk about it and I'm just bringing it up again," Michonne said.

"Oh," Tyreese said, wrapping his arms around her. "I see…it's that friend etiquette, right? You're only allowed to show that you care about your friends when they don't really need it?"

Michonne pinched his thigh.

"Ow!" He protested, chuckling. He sat silently for a moment. "I'm just saying that if she's calling because it's fine then she's going to want to brag to you and do all the 'ohhh baaabyyyy' this and the 'ohhhh baaabyyyyy' that stuff," Tyreese said, raising his voice in places to apparently show Michonne how women sounded when they talked about things they were enthusiastic about. She snickered.

"And if she's over there breaking down?" Michonne asked. "I mean what if Daryl just got her calmed down and then I call and it starts her up again?"

Tyreese squeezed his arms around her shoulders and rocked her from side to side.

"And what if hearing your sweet voice is exactly what she needs?" Tyreese asked.

Michonne chuckled.

"You just want me to leave you alone," she teased.

Tyreese sighed.

"You caught me," he said. "It's really all about me. You know the truth is though that there's nothing in life that's worse than a worrying woman."

"It's just late," Michonne said, "I thought that Daryl at least would have called by now with some kind of panicked problem. I mean he calls last night to find out if he should go and then he doesn't call to say anything else?"

Tyreese chuckled.

"That right there is a good sign, then. Think about it. That means he doesn't need help with anything. Now that either means that Daryl just magically figured everything out…which from hearing you talk doesn't sound too reasonable, or it means that nothing's wrong and they're celebrating," Tyreese said.

"So I should stop worrying?" Michonne asked. She leaned her head back and Tyreese kissed the side of her face.

"So you should stop worrying," he answered. "Either call and get it over with or let her tell her when she wants to talk to you."

"But either way stop driving you up the wall?" Michonne asked, snickering.

"You're not driving me up the wall," Tyreese said. "I just can't answer your questions and I know you're going to need to go to bed soon. You don't need to take the stress with you."

Michonne felt his hands go to the back of her neck and her shoulders squeezing and she scooted forward, leaning up to give him better access.

"That helps, does it?" Tyreese teased, kneading her shoulders.

"Mmm…" Michonne moaned, "It isn't hurting."

Michonne tried to be careful around Andrea and Carol when she talked about Tyreese. She didn't want to sound too excited or enthusiastic about him. It was still early, after all, and the sensible side of her nature coupled with past experience told her that things could always change. Still, he was unlike any of the men she'd ever dated in her life. That in itself, of course, sometimes made her afraid that things were too good to be true.

Tyreese had stepped out, it seemed, from some kind of fairy tale she could have only written in her mind. He wasn't quite as clean as her, but when he stayed over, he was easily trained. He also didn't get offended when she just needed her space. There were none of the fights she'd had with some men about how they got all crushed and rejected because she didn't want to have them breathing on her twenty four hours a day every day. Tyreese had his own life, his own job, and he had a sister that was in college in Atlanta and very regularly came down to spend the weekends with him.

On top of that, he was good with the girls. He liked them and he included them in plans without her even having to ask him about it. They were going, for example, to the zoo in a couple of weekends when the weather had cooled down nicely. It was his idea to take the girls. He wanted to take them to the aquarium too. All of it without any prodding from her or any strategically placed brochures.

If something bothered her, she simply stated that she didn't like it, and he was willing to negotiate. For instance, she pointed out to him that she simply didn't care for the idea of people taking food to bed. She hated crumbs in her bed. It drove her insane all night if someone ate in the bed. His compromise was that they wouldn't eat in the bed…unless of course it was something that wouldn't leave crumbs behind, and it had, perhaps, an alternative use for the location.

He also told her things that he wanted her to change, and she found herself willing to try to change them instead of simply wanting to reject him entirely and continue on without him.

For instance, he'd told her that he didn't like when she brought work home every evening. As a result, she'd made a deal. Work stayed in the office, or stayed confined to her desk at home if she decided to work at home, but it went away at five, no matter what. She'd put the stipulation that if it was something personal that couldn't be the case and he'd accepted, reasoning that he hated when she fretted over things and if she was working on something personal she was going to fret until she felt she had it under control.

He didn't even seem to mind her control issues. They'd driven nearly every other man in her life insane, and honestly Michonne didn't fault them for that too much. She realized she had control issues, but they were a part of who she was…and a very big part too. Tyreese seemed to think they were somewhat humorous and he did his best to help her out and make sure that things stayed the way she needed them to be to the best of his abilities. They just didn't seem to matter to him all that much.

But how was she supposed to brag to her friends that she thought, even though they hadn't really had a conversation about it…and even though she worried it might be premature…that she'd found the yin to her yang. Even her father adored the man, and her father could be a hard nut to crack.

Yet she couldn't very well talk about these things too much with Andrea and Carol. They had their own romantic messes. Andrea had ended up with Merle, who she seemed to believe to be some kind of diamond in the rough. She seemed to think that if she stuck it out and just kept polishing, underneath she was going to find some gem worth keeping. Michonne worried that what was really going to happen was that Andrea was going to spend far too much of her time and energy there and at the end of it all she'd only have a semi shiny rock to show for her efforts.

Then there was Carol, and she was navigating waters with a man who had no idea what to do with relationships. The best thing that Michonne could say about him was that he seemed like he'd be an eager student. She thought that as long as he could be assured that the prize was somewhere at the bottom of the Cracker Jack box, and that it was worth digging for, he probably had the attention span to stay put…you just had to keep showing him the part of the box that said "prize inside" to keep him from abandoning the effort and thinking it was all worthless.

So Michonne thought, with the two of them dealing with the brothers they'd plucked out of the gumball machine of life, they didn't need her dancing around them and telling them that she was having a really hard time holding back and not proposing to Tyreese herself.

Instead, she tried to be supportive of them and only talked about him when they mentioned him…and even then she tried to keep it low key.

"Better?" Tyreese asked after a few minutes.

"Just leave me here," Michonne said, still slumped forward from where he'd been rubbing her shoulders. "I don't want to move…it'll just mess it up."

Tyreese chuckled and stood up, freeing himself from being behind her.

"Fine then," he said. "I guess I'll go to bed…alone…"

"Or you could take me with you and do that again when we're in the bedroom…" Michonne said, tipping her head back now to look up at him.

He pretended like he was thinking seriously about it.

"I could be persuaded," he said. "But it's not going to come cheap."

"I have money," Michonne offered.

Tyreese chuckled.

"And so do I, and I don't want your money," Tyreese said.

"Do you deal in children?" Michonne asked. "I have a surplus."

Tyreese chuckled again and reached down grabbing her hand and pulling her up.

"No, I'm afraid I'm not into human trafficking either," he said. He started pulling her toward the bedroom now. "However…if you wanted to make a deal that just involved the two of us I'd be willing to negotiate terms with you."

"What did you have in mind?" She teased, following him into the room. "I don't want to mess up my relaxation or I'm going to have to start worrying again."

"Hmmm…" Tyreese said. "I see what you mean."

He tipped her face up to his, kissing her, his hands going around her hips and massaging the skin there. He pulled away after a moment, smiling.

"Well, Miss Lawyer, how about something that's relaxing to both parties?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'd have to see your terms before I agree to anything," Michonne said.

Tyreese laughed at her and pushed her toward the bed.

"How about some options?" He asked. "You can either get in bed now…or I'm going to throw you in there."

"You know what I like about you?" Michonne asked. She raised her eyebrows at him and bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

"No, tell me," Tyreese said, massaging her ass.

Michonne slipped her hand into the waistband of his pants, teasing him. She looked straight at him and fought back the smile again, batting her eyelashes at him.

"You drive a hard bargain," she said.

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"Now remind me what we're doing here?" Andrea asked. She sighed and followed Carol through the bookstore. This wasn't really her kind of place. She wasn't all that into books…she'd liked a lot of the dime store romance novels and other things that teachers had said would rot her brain, but ever since high school she'd mostly considered books something to be avoided. She only read the books she read now because she wanted that stupid cosmetology degree.

"I want baby books," Carol said, making her way through the store and following signs to try to find what she wanted.

"And we had to drive all the way out here? I'm pretty sure that you could have found something at the bookstore in town," Andrea said.

"Nobody's supposed to know yet, and they'll start talking if I buy baby books in Sweet Junction, you know that," Carol said.

"So just tell 'em you got knocked up. I don't see what the big deal is. You want this kid…and it's not that bad being pregnant in Sweet Junction. I was pregnant for like two and a half years in high school," Andrea said, running her fingers across the top of the books that she wouldn't look it and would probably never read.

Carol stopped walking and turned around, rolling her eyes at her.

"Stop complaining, you're getting lunch out of this," Carol said.

"I'm not nearly as food motivated as Daryl is," Andrea said.

She'd been surprised when Carol had called her this morning. She knew they had an appointment the day before, but she hadn't really heard anything from neither Daryl nor Carol so she'd just waited it out. This morning, though, at about seven, which Andrea considered to be far too early for a day off, she'd woken up to the sound of Carol beating on her door. When she opened it, Carol was beaming and looked like she might kidnap her if she didn't agree to wrestle into some of the clothes that she had which smelled the least like Korean food and accompany her on some adventure that she had in mind. Now they were wandering around in a large book store three towns away from Sweet Junction.

"Speaking of Daryl," Andrea said. "What's he had to say since the appointment yesterday?"

Carol stopped, looking at the spines of some books on the shelf that didn't interest Andrea in the slightest. Carol shrugged a little.

"He says he's happy," she said. "He hasn't said much else about it."

Andrea hoped that Daryl was really happy, and that he was on his best behavior about the whole thing. She didn't see either of the Dixon men as being the kind that would shy away from paternity if it came knocking at their doors, but neither one of them struck her as the kind that would actively seek it out either. In fact, she thought that might be the number one way to cause Merle to fall over dead from a heart attack. He was terrified of commitment, and a kid was really one hell of a commitment.

Daryl was a little different than his brother, though, and his Hershel and Jo fantasy probably involved in children in there somewhere…Andrea just didn't know if he'd given much thought to that aspect of his perfect little Hallmark life.

"What do you think I should get?" Carol asked, flipping through a book.

"Is that one about babies?" Andrea asked. Carol nodded. "Looks great," Andrea said.

Carol chuckled.

"You're not being helpful here," Carol chided.

Andrea rolled her eyes.

"I don't know, Carol. The baby thing is not my thing…I mean I don't even want kids," Andrea said.

"Never?" Carol asked.

Andrea considered it. The truth of the matter was that she couldn't really ever see herself with kids. She'd tried to imagine it from time to time, but it wasn't an image that worked in her head. Kids were great and all and she didn't make it a hobby to run them over with her car or anything like that, but she didn't really _want_ one. Unpopular opinion or not, but she felt like kids were a hassle…one she didn't need…and they never went away.

"I've got Merle," Andrea said. "Close enough…and the good news is that I can get rid of him whenever I want."

Carol rolled her eyes toward her.

"And do you ever think that you're actually going to get rid of Merle?" Carol asked.

Andrea shrugged.

"I could," she said. "Merle thinks he keeps me around…what Merle doesn't realize is that really I keep him around."

Carol chuckled.

"I actually believe that," she said.

She held up two books, one on either side of her face.

"OK, be honest, which looks more informative?" She asked.

Andrea groaned.

"That one," she said, pointing to one of the books.

"You think?" Carol asked, looking at them again.

"Which one's got the most pictures?" Andrea asked. "In the end, that's the one with the most information."

"How do you figure that?" Carol asked.

Andrea shrugged.

"Picture's worth a thousand words," Andrea responded.

Carol nodded.

"Fine, then I'll try this one," she said, flipping through them again.

"Are you actually going to read that book?" Andrea asked.

"Yes, Andrea, I'm going to read the book," Carol said. "I'm going to have a baby. I'd like to know a little more about what's going on than just being surprised by it. It's better to be informed."

"And how far along are you?" Andrea asked.

"Six weeks," Carol said. "Well, six and a half, really."

"Jesus," Andrea said, "are you going to make me do math the whole time you're pregnant too?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled at Carol.

"Just until the numbers get really big," Carol said. "Once we hit the double digits I'll convert it to months for you. I wouldn't want you to hurt something."

Andrea smiled.

"Get your fucking book and let's get the hell out of here," she said. "If we're here and we're looking at baby shit we're going shopping."

"I don't think I should buy anything yet," Carol said. "It's still early, Andrea."

Andrea rolled her eyes again.

"One thing," she said. "That's it. One little thing. I'm not driving all this way without going shopping."

"You're talking about shopping for baby stuff, though. I thought babies weren't your thing," Carol said, apparently rethinking the book and flipping through another one a little absently.

"I said babies weren't my thing," Andrea corrected. "Baby stuff is everybody's thing. I don't care if you don't want one of the snotty little fuckers, their shit's cute."

Carol chuckled.

"Oh God!" She groaned, covering her face with the book.

"What?" Andrea asked.

"I just realized Merle is going to be my child's uncle and you're going to be like its aunt. The poor thing's first word is going to be 'fuck'," Carol said.

Andrea chuckled.

"That's if you're lucky," she said.


	66. Chapter 66

**AN: Probably the last one for the night.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

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Daryl sat, smoking a cigarette, across from Merle. Carol and Andrea were out doing woman things and Merle had asked him to come over, telling him they'd order a pizza and pass the time somehow.

Daryl thought Merle seemed a little strange, though, even for Merle. They were sitting at the table, the pizza half eaten between them, but Merle hadn't suggested any form of entertainment for the evening. He kept fiddling with a half used pack of matches that he got from somewhere, flicking it back and forth on the table.

Daryl could say that he knew Merle pretty well by this point in his life, and he could tell that something was up, but he wasn't sure what. He wondered, briefly, if Merle knew about the kid and was gearing up to give him shit about it. Daryl decided he might as well bite the bullet, tell his brother if Andrea hadn't already run her mouth about it, and let him get his shit out of his system.

"Carol's knocked up," Daryl said. There was no reason to beat around the bush about it and no reason to sugar coat shit, not for Merle.

Merle nodded, sucking his teeth. He didn't stop his activity with the matchbook.

"Yeah…" he drawled. "Andrea said she was."

Daryl waited for it. He knew it was coming. He could only wonder what the hell Merle was going to have to say about this.

"And?" He asked finally, wondering what had his brother so silent.

Merle chuckled a little and leaned back in the chair, one elbow on the back, his fingers on the other hand flipping the matchbook between them.

"What'cha want me ta say, lil' brothah?" Merle asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Don't know," he said, "but I figure ya had somethin' ta say. Ain't never seen ya fuckin' tongue tied before," Daryl said.

Merle chuckled.

"Ain't too much ta say about it, I reckon," Merle said. "Ya better not fuck up with the kid, I'ma tell ya that damn much. I ain't gon' tolerate two things outta ya, Derlina. I ain't gon' tolerate ya beatin' on that woman, and I ain't gon' tolerate ya beatin' on no young'un. Ya made it, ya fuckin' take care a' it."

Daryl raised his eyebrow at Merle. The Dixon belief system, as narrated by Merle Dixon, was always a complicated belief system. It was comprised, for the most part, by bullshit. The rest was made up of what Merle had twisted life into given his experiences. Though Daryl didn't always understand completely why his brother felt the way he did about things, he could often muddle through how he arrived at one belief or another.

Neither one of them believed in beating women. Their mother had cemented that into their heads. Daryl thought he believed in it even less than Merle did, though. He hated having to put his hands on a woman roughly for any reason. Merle's belief system allowed for a little more flexibility if it was a hellcat that was out of control. Once she went rabid you did what you had to do, but mostly the rule for Merle was you never started it and you never did anything that wasn't necessary to get the hell cat under control.

Daryl couldn't ever see Carol being a hell cat. She had a little spunk to her, and there was a spark every now and again, but he couldn't really see her being the kind of hell cat that would come after him and force him to do something to get her under control. He wasn't so sure, though, that Merle might not have his hands full with Andrea if the mood ever really hit her.

Daryl had never really entered into Merle's beliefs on paternity though. Their father had been a rip roaring waste of human life and he'd done a good job of fucking up most everything he could in their childhoods. To say the least, he wasn't much of a role model. Perhaps, as a result, Daryl had never really thought about fatherhood much before, and he never figured Merle had either. Merle was too busy trying to get away from the hell cats he tamed for a night or two to ever think about making any kids with them. So it was surprising to hear that he was adamant about Daryl taking care of his kid.

"Ya know I ain't never gonna lay my hands on her," Daryl said. "An' I was plannin' on takin' care a' the kid."

Merle grunted. He chuckled a little.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"Nothin'," Merle said. "Just always kinda figured it would be you."

"Be me that did what?" Daryl said.

"Ya know, princess…the whole Brady Bunch shit. Whole nine yards, too. Fuckin' kid an' everythin'," Merle said.

"Ya ain't never said shit about it," Daryl said.

Merle shrugged.

"Ain't got ta say every damn thing I think. Ya always was a sweet 'un. Weren't never like ya ole brothah," Merle said.

Daryl eyed Merle across the table as he continued to flick the matches back and forth between his fingers with the rhythm that he'd established. He kept the steady rhythm, staring at his fingers as he went. His tone of voice was different, though, and not one that Daryl was really accustomed to hearing. It was almost the tone of voice he got when he started drinking and seemed to start feeling sorry for himself, but Daryl knew that Merle had been dry since the night they'd drug his ass home from the Watering Hole and he'd let him have it the next morning.

"Ya say that shit like ya sorry," Daryl said, venturing to see what Merle might offer him as a means of explanation for the change in tone.

Merle sucked his teeth.

"Ain't sorry. Just a fact a' life," Merle responded. "Ya more the domesticatin' type a' animal than me."

"Maybe wouldn't be like that if ya showed some interest in it," Daryl said. "Fuck ya been livin' with Andrea long enough now ya might as well admit ya damn near domesticated. Only fuckin' difference is I got the balls ta admit I like it an' ya ain't got a set big enough ta do the same."

Merle chuckled a little, letting the laugh growl in his throat.

"Ya don't settle down with no hell cat like Andrea," Merle said. "An' she sure as shit ain't fit ta saddle me. An' I heard about ya lil' games ya play with Carol…talkin' 'bout ya feelin's an' shit all tha damn time. Ain't my cup a' tea."

Daryl shook his head.

"So damn proud," Daryl said. "Lemme ask ya somethin', Merle, what the hell ya got ta show for all ya damn pride? Ya got some number a' sleezy ass girl's ya fucked that don't even remember ya name? Ya'd do good ta admit one damn day that ya'd rather have just one who remembered what the fuck ya look like the day after ya boned her."

"Why, Derlina? Sos I can be all sentimental an' shit like you is?" Merle asked.

Daryl chewed at his thumb nail. The last thing he was going to do was let Merle get under his skin. He was pretty sure Hershel was right, and if he'd ever loved anyone before he loved Carol. He might not be positive that love was the right word for it, but he knew he liked being with her a whole hell of a lot more than he'd ever liked it when he wasn't with her.

He was getting used to the house now, and it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. She didn't fuss about his shoes, not even as much as Andrea had. He didn't have anything against Lincoln neither. Dog smelled a little funny, and he didn't like that Carol made him shampoo the damn thing all the time, but he couldn't say he had much against the dog. He was just busy being a hound dog, and you couldn't much blame him for that.

And now Carol was pregnant. Daryl might not know exactly how he felt about the kid right now, but Hershel told him he was going to love the little fucker, so he figured that's just what he was going to do. He didn't know much what was expected of him, but he knew one thing, and that was that he wasn't going to be like his old man. He was going to figure out, somehow, how to have a kid that didn't hate him…and how to have a kid that didn't end up with the same damn issues his brother had, or any that he had for that matter. He figured if he could save the kid from that shit then at least he'd have done a half ass job of being a dad.

"Don't knock it 'til ya try it," Daryl said.

Daryl couldn't really figure out what was different about what he had with Carol and what Merle had with Andrea, other than the fact that maybe they didn't love each other. They lived together, though, and they put up with each other's shit…and as far as Daryl could see that weren't no light load on either side. Daryl thought that Andrea was softer, though, that Merle gave her credit for being. She had a streak of hell cat in her a mile wide, that was for sure, but if Merle didn't fight so hard to bring it out in her, Daryl wondered if it might be different.

"If ya was ta be nice ta Andrea," Daryl said, "ya might just find out ya like it. Ain't gon' lie…an' ya can call me a fuckin' pussy if ya want…but they ain't nothin' disagreeable 'bout havin' someone soft an' nice curlin' up next ta ya an' keepin' ya warm."

"Talkin' 'bout that damn dog?" Merle asked, chuckling.

Daryl shrugged.

"Suit ya fuckin' self. Just sayin' havin' it's a helluva lot better than not havin' it," Daryl said.

Merle grunted again.

Daryl sat in silence then, hoping that the women made it back soon. He didn't mind them going off and doing whatever it was they wanted to do with their free day, but he was kind of anxious to see Carol. They'd slept all day after her doctor's appointment, and all night too, both of them waking up about four when she apparently decided it was time to get up and start what was shaping up to be their new morning routine. When she'd gotten control of herself, though, she'd been real sweet with him, and he was anxious to have her back home and find out if it was going to wear off or not.

When Andrea came through the door a little while later, then, Daryl jumped at the opportunity.

"Where's Carol?" Daryl asked.

Andrea stood in the door, a cup in her hand.

"Nice to see you too, sweetheart," Andrea said. She smiled. "She's gone home, Daryl."

"I'm headin' out then," Daryl said. He didn't really care at the moment if he seemed too anxious. He figured Merle was in a mood and he'd leave him with Andrea. He had things at home…his home…that interested him right now.

"Well bye, Daryl," Andrea said.

"See ya," Daryl said, shouldering past her. "Later, Merle," he called. He didn't wait to hear his brother's grunted response.

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Carol was already in the house when Daryl got home. She was sitting on the couch, with Lincoln next to her, his head on her lap, and she was reading a book.

"Damn, ya must a' run in the house," Daryl said. "I couldn't a' been ten minutes behind ya."

Carol looked up from the book. She smiled.

"I've been home a few minutes. Long enough to let Lincoln out. I just sat down…thought you might spend a little time with Merle," Carol said. She closed the book that she'd apparently just opened and rested it on the back of the couch.

"Nah," Daryl said. "He's in some kinda mood an' I ain't wantin' ta deal with it. Besides, I was wantin' ta see how ya was since this mornin'."

Daryl didn't want to come right out and admit that he wanted to know if she was going to be sweet to him or not, but that was his primary concern at the moment. Since he'd come back she'd had somewhat of a hands off policy and last night was the first time that she'd wanted to be real warm with him. He was hoping that she might want to go a step farther tonight.

"I'm fine," Carol said. She reached down and patted the dog's head that was lying in her lap. "We went shopping."

"What'd ya buy?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled.

"Nothing, really," she said. "Nothing you'd be interested in."

Daryl figured he'd be interested in anything she was interested in if it made her feel all warm and sweet and cuddly. He'd looked at her blank baby pictures. What else could she possibly have to show him?

"What'd ya get?" He pressed.

Carol smiled again and unfolded her legs, momentarily disturbing the dog who moved over and decided to simply claim one entire cushion of the couch in response.

Carol got up and disappeared into the back of the house for a moment. She came back a few minutes later with a bag.

"I got a pregnancy book," she said. "That's what I was looking at. I thought it might be a good idea to know what to expect. You know, so it's not all a big surprise. I also got these." She dug around in the bag and pulled out a pack of bibs. Daryl took them and looked at them for a minute.

"Bibs?" He asked.

"You know what they are!" Carol said, a look of genuine surprise spreading over her face. Daryl chuckled.

"I'm not stupid," Daryl said. "I know babies drool, an' I know what the hell a fuckin' bib is, but why ya got 'em? Kid's gotta cook for a while, don't it?"

Carol smiled and looked at the bibs. She took them out of his hands and ran her fingers around the edge of the top one.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "Andrea talked me into it. Just sort of a…I don't know…just sort of something to hold onto…something to look at. It's silly," she said, putting the bibs back in the bag.

Daryl reached over and tipped her face up, bringing his lips to hers. She kissed him, enthusiastically. He smiled at her when he pulled away.

"I don't reckon it's silly," he said. "If ya want somethin' ta look at then ya oughta have somethin' ta look at. Ain't hurtin' nothin' an' the kid's gonna drool on 'em when it's done cookin', ain't it?"

Carol smiled and brought her lips back to his. She wrapped her arms around him, and he reached around her, pulling her tight against him. He didn't want to pass on this opportunity if it was really there.

"What's say we go spend a lil' time together?" Daryl asked when the kiss broke. Carol looked up at him with the facial expression she usually got when she was already thinking about sex and he very nearly yipped at the progression.

"What kind of time?" She asked.

Daryl grinned. He started walking, her arms still wrapped around him, pushing her backwards little by little toward the bedroom. She giggled at him and put her head against his chest, peeking a little over her shoulder.

"Ain't gon' let'cha bust ya ass," Daryl said.

Carol let him walk her backwards, giggling almost the whole way until they got to the bedroom.

"Now that you have me here," she said, "what are we going to do?"

Daryl grinned at her again and leaned down, kissing her neck and inhaling her scent. He realized she was still holding the bag in her hand. He backed her up a little farther until she reached the bed. He was already aroused and he could hardly contain himself. He was fighting to hold himself back from what he really wanted to do, which was throw her on the bed and fight her out of her clothes.

He held back, though. He took the bag out of her hand and put it on the floor. He leaned in to kiss her when he stood up.

"Put that on the dresser," she said, when they pulled apart. "Lincoln will get it if you don't."

Daryl sighed and moved the bag.

"Got a damn kid already," he said. "Fucker chews up every damn thing he can get his mouth on."

Carol giggled. By the time that Daryl turned around, she was leaning against the bed with her shirt already off and was fumbling with the clasps on her bra. Daryl grinned at her.

"Damn, ya quick," he said. Carol unsnapped her bra and laid it on the bed with her discarded shirt. She turned to face Daryl and then looked down, unhooking the button on her jeans.

"Am I the only one here that's taking off my clothes?" She asked. "I'm going to be naked and all alone."

Daryl grinned at her again and started stripping out of his clothes, piling them on the dresser. He wasn't sure what exactly had brought about the change in her, but he was appreciating the fact that they'd gone from hands off to let's go.

Daryl stepped forward once he was out of his clothes and she was out of hers. He kissed her, one hand going immediately to her breast and squeezing it, the other going to her ass and pulling her against him, massaging his hand in the soft flesh. Carol moaned into his mouth, already panting a little.

"Ya on all systems go right now, ain't'cha?" Daryl asked, chuckling a little as he pulled away.

Carol got on the bed and he considered, if he wasn't so anxious himself, seeing if she'd ask for it. He didn't want to risk teasing her making her change her mind, though, so he decided to simply join her instead.

Daryl crawled onto the bed, already coming over top of her and kissed her again. He slipped his hand down, rubbing the spot that always got her attention and she bucked into him, whining almost into his mouth. He didn't know why, but it amused him. He pulled out of the kiss, but didn't stop his movements with his hand. She thrashed around a bit, looking at him, her mouth open a little.

Daryl chuckled.

"Ya goin' on ya own?" He asked. Carol bit her lip and closed her eyes in response, another whine escaping. Daryl decided this was entertainment enough, at least for the moment. He backed up a little, bringing his other hand down and slipping his fingers into her like she liked sometimes, increasing his speed and pressure on what he considered to be the magic button.

Carol kept her eyes closed, but she wallowed on the bed, thrashing against his hands. He smiled, bringing his mouth down to suck at her nipples. He liked the whining noise that she was making, whether she intended to be making it or not.

He chuckled a little when it intensified with the sucking on her nipples.

"Go ahead then," he said. "Get on with it. My turn next."

He sucked one of her nipples again, nipping it a little as he went, and then turned his attention more to what his hands were doing. Finally she came undone, screaming out at him like he hadn't heard her scream before. Apparently he wasn't the only one who heard it, because he heard the clattering noise of Lincoln's nails on the hardwood floor coming to investigate.

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle again.

"Alright?" He asked. Carol finally opened her eyes then, panting, and nodded. He teased her once more by making circles over the spot and her body jerked against him. He leaned in, kissing her. "Ready for my turn?" Daryl asked, pulling out of the kiss. In response, Carol wrapped her legs around him and he buried himself inside her quickly. Her arms came around him, her nails biting slightly into his shoulders. He hissed involuntarily at the welcome feeling of her around him. "Ain't gonna last long," he growled.

"Go ahead," Carol panted.

Daryl didn't try to control his speed this time. He let himself go at the rate that he thought felt best and hoped that she would get something out of it. He didn't expect her to be as primed as she was, though, because she shocked him when she cried out against him, biting him, before he reached his own release. When his body calmed down after finding his own climax, Daryl immediately moved from on top of her. He leaned and licked her neck, tasting the sweat there, and bit her gently before he kissed her, both of them still panting a little.

"God it's good ta have ya back," he said when they pulled apart. Carol smiled at him.

"I'm glad you're back, too," she said. He leaned over, kissing her and tangling his tongue with hers once more. When they broke apart, she lie there, looking at him for a moment. "I love you," she said.

It caught Daryl off guard for the moment. It was the first time that she'd actually said it that way. She was so direct about it, so matter of fact. Before they'd only come as far as admitting that they thought they might love each other, their confessions being somewhat timid, but this was a direct statement, a bold statement. For a second it hit Daryl and he felt his heart pound in response. He swallowed and shook his head.

"I love ya too," he said.

Daryl snuggled Carol against him and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He'd never said it so directly before himself, but he had to admit that it felt nice to say it. And it felt even better to have her in his arms, just like this, when he finally did say it. It felt like something that was a long time coming, but more than worth the wait.


	67. Chapter 67

**AN: So I had this chapter planned…and it's more or less what I want it to be, it's just not enough like I want it to be for me to be really happy with it. Still, it's been just one of those days, so I'm going to go ahead and put it up as it is and move onward. I hope it's not terrible. **

**More to come at some point…not sure if I'm in the mood to get anymore out tonight, but I might try. **

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Normally Carol looked forward to her days off. They came, here and there, depending on what was going on with the other workers at Lula's or at the Watering Hole. Sometimes she knew about them in advance, and sometimes they were a surprise. Today had been a surprise. Donna had some kind of wedding that she had to go to and Lula had called asking Carol to take the day off and come in for Donna when she had to go to the wedding. It wasn't a problem. Carol didn't mind switching days with some of the others when they needed it. They were good enough to do the same for her.

But today, for whatever reason, having the day off was almost making her nervous. She'd seen Daryl off to work at Hershel's, kissing him and walking him out to the truck with his lunch, and now she was killing a day. She'd offered to babysit for Michonne, still trying to work off legal fees that her friend seemed to be trying to ignore completely, but Michonne was taking the day off and going on some kind of "family adventure" with Tyreese and the girls. So that just left Carol alone in the house to fret about everything.

She felt like the knowledge that there was a baby growing inside of her now, a life that she was responsible for, made her not want to have days off. She wanted to be working all the time, knowing that she was making enough money to take care of the little thing like it should be taken care of.

They made enough money between the two of them to keep bills paid and have a little extra, but little was the key word. Carol knew the baby was going to need things. It was fine with her that the house was, for the most part, unfurnished. She could deal with the lack of material things, but she wasn't putting her baby in a cardboard box somewhere. She'd have to buy a crib at the very least.

And there would be diapers. Even if she used cloth diapers to try to save money, the baby was going to need some to get started. Her mind spun when she thought about it all. She didn't know everything that babies needed, but she knew they needed a lot of things.

Carol had been, since she started working, squirreling money away in a coffee can. The practice was something she'd begun simply to give her peace of mind. She'd figured that if she hid part of her money from herself and acted like it didn't exist, then she wouldn't go over her budget…and if she happened to go over it, there was something to keep her from crashing and burning. The coffee can had moved with her from the apartment, and she continued the act of squirreling away part of her tips there, pretending that she never earned them. Except now she considered the can almost like some kind of insurance policy for the baby.

Daryl didn't know about the coffee can hidden in the back of the cabinet, or at least Carol didn't think he knew about it. She hadn't told him about it. It wasn't that she didn't trust Daryl or that she thought he'd take the money, but she considered part of the reason that the coffee can plan worked was because it wasn't money that was seen often or talked about. It was out of mind other than the small piece of security that it offered.

Today, though, she drug the coffee can out and looked at the bills that were wadded up in there. She straightened them, sorted them, and folded them neatly, replacing them in the can and putting it back under the sink when she was done. Touching the money was somehow soothing. She didn't know how much a good crib would cost, but she felt like if she didn't have enough for one already, she soon would. Something safe. She wasn't putting her baby in a cardboard box, and she wasn't putting it in a hand me down crib for something terrible to happen.

And then there was the problem of the car. She and Daryl both had the trucks, but neither one was proper for a baby. She didn't even have a backseat for the baby to ride in. She was going to talk to Daryl soon about selling one of them to see if they could get a proper car…

Carol realized she was working herself into a tizzy worrying about everything they needed and everything that needed to be done, and she couldn't solve any of the problems today. The book she had showed her pictures and right now their baby, sadly enough, didn't even look like a baby. From the best she could tell from the drawing it looked like a worm or something. She knew that she had more than enough time to worry about all of this…to present it all to Daryl…but a day off just provided too much time to think about everything.

Carol finally decided that she wasn't going to think any more about what they didn't have. Not right now. Right now she was going to drag a towel out to the front yard and sit out there while Lincoln ran circles. She was going to read her baby book and she was going to try and focus on the baby…on what they did have.

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The neighborhood was fairly quiet. The sounds of construction were more than audible, but Carol could ignore them. They were the evidence that other people would have their little houses soon enough if they wanted them. Other than that, though, there were few people. The houses were still mostly empty so it wasn't exactly bustling with neighbors yet. In fact, Carol was certain she didn't have any neighbors.

The passing of cars, then drew Lincoln's attention and Carol's. She would glance up from her book and he would run back and forth along the fence line trying to look through it and see what was out there. Most of the passing vehicles, though, were simply through traffic. People going from here to there, and nothing to be alarmed about.

The rumble, though, of a motorcycled sent Lincoln into trying out his howl some and Carol glanced up, the sound drawing closer. She was surprised when it pulled into her drive and sailed right up to the side of the house where the small carport connected to the house and led to the side door.

Carol got up, keeping her book in her hand so that Lincoln didn't think it was a chew toy, and walked through the yard, letting herself out the side gate of the little fence to see what was going on. She hadn't made out who was on the motorcycle yet, and she wanted to know who the hell they were thinking they could just drive right up to her house like that without stopping to identify themselves.

Carol came under the little carport, which ironically didn't even have her truck parked under it, and found Merle there, standing next to the motorcycle. Carol stopped a minute, not knowing what to ask about first…the motorcycle or why Merle was under her carport.

"What is this?" Carol asked, finally.

Merle looked up from where he was examining the bike.

"Don't tell me ya ain't never seen a motorcycle, princess," Merle said. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and went to picking at something on the bike.

Carol huffed a little.

"Merle, of course I've seen a motorcycle," she said. "What's it doing here, though, under my carport?"

Merle chuckled.

"I reckon it's waitin' on me ta make it purr like a kitten," Merle said. "Where's my brothah?"

"He's at work," Carol said. She walked over, resting her book on the step to go inside the house. "Shouldn't you be at work too?"

"I could be," Merle said, "but apparently like yaself I got me tha day off, an' I got me this here bike that T-Dog was sellin' for a right good price, so I reckon I got me a hobby."

Carol frowned.

"You think you're going to work on that thing here?" She asked.

Merle chuckled.

"That's why it's here. I can't 'xactly do much at them apartments. Parkin' lot ain't all that choice a place ta start breakin' down no bike," Merle said. "Even here in East Bumblefuck I reckon people'll pick up a piece or two of a bike if it's just layin' on the ground for tha takin'," Merle responded.

Carol shook her head.

"No! You're not taking that thing apart here!" She said. "I'm not having a motorcycle torn to pieces under my carport with you getting oil and grease and God knows what all over the place! What do you even intend to do with it?"

"I'ma drive it," Merle said. "Ya get them balls when ya took 'em from Daryl? Tryin' ta tell me I can't work here…ain't this s'posed ta be where tha hell Daryl lives too?"

"Yes it's his house too," Carol responded, ignoring Merle's comments about the locations of Daryl's balls, "but he'll agree with me on this."

"Reckon we'll just have ta see 'bout it," Merle said. "I know my brothah an' he's gon' want in on fixin' this bike much as I do. 'Sides, ya weren't raisin' no hell when he was bustin' his knuckles on that truck fer ya ass, so what'cha got 'gainst him helpin' me with some trans-por-tation?"

Merle drew the last part out, smiling and lighting a cigarette that he dug out of his back pocket. Carol studied him and studied the bike.

"I didn't know Daryl was fixing that truck for me," Carol said. "And he didn't do it here, under the carport."

"Don't get'cha panties bunched up," Merle said. "We'll clean up ya damn carport when we done with tha bike. Don't'cha be all worried 'bout that." He stood there smoking a moment, walking around the bike, and Carol went over and sat on the step, leaning against the side door. "Yeah…ya can pin him down with some kid, ya know, but'cha ain't gon' take tha Dixon outta Daryl."

Now it was Carol's turn to laugh.

"Oh no," she said. "I wouldn't want to take the mythological Dixon out of Daryl."

"He'll's that s'posed ta mean?" Merle asked.

"Come on, Merle," Carol said. "Be honest. All this Dixons do this mess and Dixons do that mess…it's just something you came up with to hide behind. A shield you put up to try to excuse yourself. Say what you really want to say, but don't hide behind that with me."

Merle stepped in front of her, regarding her as she sat on the step. He took a drag off his cigarette.

"Ya s'posed ta be some kinda head doctor now?" Merle asked with a chuckle. "'Cause last accounts I had ya weren't doin' nothin' but pushin' drinks down there at that bar with Andrea."

"Let me ask you something," Carol said. "Do you have something against me because I'm with your brother? You seemed to like me a lot more when I wasn't."

Merle chuckled.

"I don't like ya an' I don't dislike ya," Merle said. "I can take ya or leave ya."

"Because you don't care about anyone, right? Dixons don't care about anyone?" Carol asked.

"Ya got cocky, didn't'cha? Ya ran 'round them apartments 'fraid a' ya own shadow, but now that ya got'cha belly all full an' ya done gone an' drug Daryl out here, ya got kinda cocky," Merle said.

Carol smiled at him.

"How did it happen, Merle? What exactly was it that made you think that women's only interest in men was to trap them and somehow bring out the bad in them?" Carol asked.

"There ya go," Merle said.

"No…" Carol said. "I'm serious. I've always wanted to understand that. You see, that was Ed's mentality too. Maybe if I'd understood it, I could have figured out how to stop it or to counteract it or something. So tell me…how did it happen?"

"I ain't nothin' like Ed," Merle said. "I ain't put my hands on ya…not long as I can remember. An' I ain't never hit on Andrea neither."

Carol shook her head.

"No…there's that difference, but you're more like him than you think. I've heard you say things to Andrea…I've heard you say things to Daryl. Words can do as much damage as fists you know…sometimes more. Ed was the same way, though, always saying I trapped him into something…into being married to me. Always saying that I was the reason that he acted the way he acted. He only hit me because I didn't know how to act…you know what I mean, Merle?" Carol said.

"He ain't had no right ta hit'cha," Merle said. "I can't answer for the rest."

"But where did you start to think it, Merle? What makes you think I trapped Daryl? I didn't mean to get pregnant, but I'm not going to say that I'm not happy about it. I want this baby, and I'd want it even if Daryl didn't want to stay," Carol said. "And I love Daryl…just as he is. I'm not trying to change him. I mean, sure, we'll both change…as we spend time with each other, but I wouldn't change who Daryl is fundamentally, and I hope he wouldn't change me."

Merle grunted, but he didn't respond to Carol. He looked a little annoyed, and Carol didn't say anything when he dropped his cigarette and snubbed it out with his shoe instead of putting it in the bucket in the corner that Daryl was using as an ashtray.

"When tha fuck is Daryl s'posed ta be home?" Merle asked.

"Around six probably," Carol said. "That's when he normally gets home."

Merle looked around like he wasn't sure what to do.

"Do you think we could play a game, Merle?" Carol asked. "Sort of make a deal?"

Merle looked at her and knitted his eyebrows together.

"How about I let you work on that bike here, and I don't say anything to you or Daryl about the mess," Carol said.

"And?" Merle asked.

"You try…just try…to look at things from a different perspective for a bit. You try being nice to Andrea, and to me, and you try to understand that Daryl is here because he wants to be here, not because he feels like he has to be," Carol said. "Daryl wanted to come back before he knew about the baby, Merle…it wasn't about the baby."

"Ya ain't gon' know what I'm thinkin' an' what I ain't thinkin'," Merle said with a chuckle.

Carol shook her head.

"No, but you will," she said. "And I'd be willing to trust you."

"Ya ain't real damn smart, then," Merle said.

Carol smiled again.

"I think you can be trusted, Merle. And I think that if you tried to see things a different way…and maybe change, just a bit, the way you acted, you might find out you like it. You might even find out you were wrong all along," Carol said.

Carol thought to herself that maybe…just maybe…Merle's reasons for feeling like he did and thinking like he did came from what he had seen. She knew that Ed had seen a lot of the behavior from his father that he exercised with her, though Ed was more violent than his father had been. So perhaps Merle had interpreted whatever happened between his parents as being proof not only of his father's violence, but perhaps of his mother's actions as driving his father to act as he did.

Carol knew enough about Daryl's life to know it hadn't been pleasant. He didn't talk about it much, but every now and again some detail would slip out. She'd coax something out of him. She knew his parents were verbally and physically abusive…she knew they were neglectful…that was about all that she could gather. Somehow, though, Merle had processed things in a different way than Daryl.

Carol wondered if Merle's perspectives could change if he saw things a different way. Daryl wanted something different because he saw it was out there, and it looked good to him. Merle was afraid of what was different because he was afraid it was only shapes in the clouds…something that wasn't really there.

Andrea thought, and Carol agreed, that Merle was afraid of anything good, afraid to dream of anything good, because he feared that he would wake up one day and find out that it was really just a lie.

But if he she bit her tongue, if she allowed him to stay there, working on his motorcycle with Daryl, and she let him see that her so called snare for Daryl was actually something he liked…maybe Merle would begin to believe that everything wasn't just a hoax and that things could actually go well and stay that way.

It would be a good incentive, too, to try to work extra hard on their relationship. It could be good for them to be some kind of role models…even though she didn't really know if she and Daryl were fit for that since they seemed to barely hold it together most of the time. Knowing Merle was watching, though, and knowing they might make a difference for him...that could be just as good for them as it could be for Merle.

"Whatever makes ya happy, darlin'," Merle said. "I ain't gon' be no damn pansy ass…ya can get that outta ya head, but I reckon I can keep my mouth shut more often than not, just until I get this beauty like I want her."

He regarded her a moment more, looking her up and down and then smiling.

"Ya really think ya can keep ya lil' mouth shut tha whole time we workin' on it?" Merle asked with a snicker.

Carol smiled.

"I've had a lot of practice in my life keeping my mouth shut," Carol said. "At least this time it's for a noble cause."

"An' what cause is that, sugah?" Merle asked.

Carol smiled.

"The reformation of Merle Dixon," Carol said.

Merle shuffled his foot and sucked his teeth, the smirk not completely gone from his face.

"Ya think a whole lotta yaself, don't'cha darlin'?" He asked.

Carol smiled again.

"I didn't used to…but I'm starting to grow on me," Carol said. She reached her hand out to Merle. "Help me up. I'm going to call Andrea, invite her over to dinner. Then you can tell Daryl about your new ride."

Merle shook his head, but he did cross the carport and, taking her hand, helped Carol up from her seat.

She went inside, leaving him to make whatever mess he wanted until dinnertime. She'd cook something nice and one way or another, she and Daryl would prove to Merle Dixon that a good relationship wasn't just a trick with smoke and mirrors.


	68. Chapter 68

**AN: So here you go…a little something. **

**For any of you who haven't seen it and may be interested, I'm working on another Caryl AU called Broken Mirrors. The story is very AU and quite different than this one, though. If you think you might be interested pop on over there and give it a look.**

**For those of you reading my other Caryl fic, if I'm not too exhausted I'm going to try to get a chapter out for Phantom Hearts tomorrow after work. I just haven't been there mentally and I hate to try to update if I'm not in the right place mentally. No worries, though, it will be updated soon!**

**Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always I thank you for all the love you show me with reviews, comments, etc. **

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When Daryl got home, he was surprised to find that he could barely fit his truck in the driveway. Andrea's car was parked in his place. He crawled out of the truck, slamming the door, and as he walked up the driveway toward the house he'd been even more surprised to find his brother there, sitting on the ground, and taking apart a bike on the carport while Andrea and Carol sat side by side on the step in front of the side door talking about whatever in the hell it was they always found to run their mouths about.

They had proceeded, after that, to have some kind of big family dinner and then Daryl had gone out with Merle to look at the bike he'd acquired from T-Dog, apparently, while the women Andrea and Carol did the dishes and talked.

After Merle and Andrea left, Carol excused herself to take a shower and Daryl walked over to the cookie jars. He hadn't put anything in there that day. He really hadn't had time to even think of anything if he'd been searching for something that was wrong, but even now he couldn't think of anything that he felt needed to be addressed, so he knew that Carol's jar was empty.

He cringed a little, though, at the thought of all that might be waiting in his. Merle had apparently been there for a good bit of the day and there was a bike that was partially disassembled under their carport. Daryl didn't know how many notepads Michonne had bought to go with the cookie jar, but he feared that he was going to find the majority of them folded into tiny strips of paper with an almost endless stream of complaints about his brother.

Daryl knew Merle and his mouth well. They'd been acquainted over the years. He knew how to ignore Merle, sometimes, and he thought he was getting even better at it, but Carol wasn't as used to Merle as he was. He could only imagine the number of inappropriate things that his brother had probably chosen to spew forth throughout the day. Daryl wasn't sure, while he was thinking about it, that all the nice things he'd done for Carol since he'd known her would be enough to counteract all he was sure to find there.

He took a breath and popped the lid on his jar, deciding to prepare himself for the table discussion while Carol was still in the shower. He looked in, through half squinted eyes, and then stepped back a little from the counter, surprised. There wasn't anything in the cookie jar. Carol had been home from work the whole day, with Merle for company no less, and the cookie jar was empty.

Daryl closed the jar and put it back on its side of the coffee maker. He made his way through the house, then, walking directly into the bathroom.

"Ya OK?" Daryl asked. He knew that sometimes after dinner Carol complained of not feeling very good, and he worried that she was lingering in the shower to try to cover it up.

He thought that might be something that he'd put in the cookie jar for tomorrow, but he wasn't introducing it today. For whatever reason, Carol seemed to think that her being sick was going to make him angry or something of the like, because she apologized profusely for it in the mornings and any time throughout the day that she disappeared to the bathroom and he knew about it, she would return, apologizing, if she'd gotten sick. He had no idea why she did that. He understood that when she got sick like that it wasn't her fault. She couldn't help it, and even if she did have any control over it at all, he didn't know why anyone would get mad at someone else because they felt so bad they thought it was a good idea to go and curl up on the floor with their head against the toilet seat. But Carol was like that…she was going to apologize, even if there wasn't a reason for it.

"I'm OK," Carol called back. "I don't want to get out."

Daryl wrinkled his brow.

"Why not? Somethin' wrong?" He asked.

"No," Carol called back. "It just feels good in here. I don't want to get out."

Daryl snickered.

"Then don't," he said. "I ain't had me a shower since I got off a' work an' I smell like cow shit. I reckon ya could keep me comp'ny in there."

"Come on, then," Carol said.

Daryl snickered to himself and stepped out of the bathroom to strip down and drop his clothes into the tall laundry basket that Carol kept pushed against the dresser. When he was naked, he made his way back into the bathroom and pushed back the shower curtain. Carol was standing directly under the stream, her eyes closed, letting the water run directly onto her face and down her body.

Daryl went hard at the sight of her there, water running over her.

"Are you coming?" She asked, not opening her eyes.

Daryl snickered.

"Not yet, I ain't," he said. "But I reckon it won't be too damn long."

"What?" Carol asked. She turned then, opening her eyes. At first she just looked confused, but then her eyes trailed down and she laughed. "Get your ass in here," she said.

"Look at'cha!" Daryl said, crawling into the shower. "Bossin' my ass around an' talkin' like that."

Carol stepped out of the spray and pushed Daryl backwards, under the warm water. He saw her shiver a little.

"Now ya gonna freeze ta death," Daryl said.

"I'm fine," Carol said. "Wash."

"I thought we might do something else," Daryl said.

Carol smiled at him.

"Wash! You said it yourself, you smell like a dirty cow," Carol said.

Daryl chuckled and started washing himself as quickly as he could.

"I looked in the cookie jars," Daryl said. "Ya ain't put nothin' in mine."

"How much do I have to answer for today?" Carol asked.

"I ain't put nothin' in yours neither…" Daryl said. "But what I want ta know is why ain't there nothin' in my jar?"

"Why?" Carol asked. "Did you do something that I don't know about that needs to be in the jar?"

Daryl rinsed under the spray and reached for the shampoo bottle, the top of his arm brushing across Carol's breast and renewing the feelings that had started to fade a little. He shivered in response to it.

"Ya mean ta tell me that Merle Dixon was here all damn day an' he ain't said nothin' that made ya wanta put no paper in that cookie jar?" Daryl said, lathering up his hair.

Carol opened the shower curtain and got out the shower. Daryl stuck his head out quickly, but pulled it back in, trying to keep the suds from running into his eyes.

"Where tha fuck ya goin'?" He called. "Thought ya wanted ta stay in here. That's what the hell I got in here for."

"You needed a shower," Carol said. "And now I'm cold and I don't want to be in there anymore. I'm not going anywhere, Daryl, I'm just drying off to warm up."

Daryl sighed and scrubbed his hair so he could rinse it and join her.

"And I didn't put anything in the cookie jar because there wasn't anything to put in there," Carol said. "Merle was…well…he wasn't so Merle today. Besides, why would it go in your jar to explain Merle's actions? Would you put something in my jar if, say, Andrea made you mad?"

Daryl finished rinsing his hair and switched off the water, shaking his head to shake off the excess wetness before pulling back the curtain and tugging the towel off the towel rack. Carol was sitting on the sink, her towel wrapped around her.

"No," he said. "But Merle's different. Did he say somethin' ta make ya mad?"

Daryl could tolerate Merle's mouth, and for the most part he let Merle talk to Andrea as he pleased, figuring that she must be able to handle him or she wouldn't have chosen to stick around him this long, but he wasn't going to let Merle talk trash to Carol. She didn't deserve it and she wasn't that kind of person. She was much softer spoken than any of the three of them and she didn't need Merle cussing her out or spewing his philosophical bullshit all over her.

"No, Daryl, he didn't say anything. My point was that you're not responsible for what Merle does and says. Merle is the only one that's responsible for that. Even if he had done something, which he didn't, you're not the guilty party," Carol said.

Daryl finished toweling off and pulled his towel back across the bar. Carol slid off the sink then and hung hers up beside his, though hers was always much neater than his was.

Seeing her naked again distracted Daryl momentarily from the conversation they were trying to have. Her wet curls clung in places to her face and they still dripped a little onto her body. Daryl stepped forward, almost unable to control himself from doing it, and licked across her collarbone and shoulder where some of the water had run. Carol leaned into him, her breasts pressing against him, and again he went back to full salute.

"Ya fuckin' killin' me tonight," Daryl growled. "Ya gonna let me get close ta ya this time or ya gonna run again?"

Carol wrapped her arms around him and purposefully rubbed her body on him, making a quick movement up and down causing friction that sent a pulse all the way through him.

"I didn't run from you before," she said, leaning into him.

"Ya got out the shower," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled.

"Because I was cold! I got out to dry off, I told you that. I wasn't running from you. I waited on you, didn't I?" Carol responded.

"Ya waited on me for that?" Daryl asked, returning the rubbing motion with his body. Carol moaned at him.

"I didn't put any clothes on, did I?" She asked.

Daryl grinned and hooked his arms around her waist. She turned around quickly, but his arms still closed around her, catching her with her back to him. He kissed her neck, licking more of the water that was puddling there. He growled a little, pulling her back into him.

He would have never believed in his life, before he met Carol, that he would be as driven by sex as he was. He'd gone his whole damn life without it, after all. He just didn't need it. He'd heard Merle run his mouth about pussy this and pussy that and how pussy drove men crazy, but he had always chocked that up to just Merle being Merle and spewing more of his bullshit. He was starting to believe, though, that there was truth to what Merle had said because he did feel like there were times that Carol drove him completely out of his mind. There was nothing he could do to focus on anything when they were wrapped up in moments like this.

Carol walked forward and Daryl stuck right on her heels, keeping his feet outside of hers so he didn't accidentally step directly on the back of her feet. She laughed a little at him, tugging him forward.

"Ain't lettin' go," he said. He chuckled a little and bit down gently on the back of her neck, keeping his arms around her and his body pressed against her. "Ya ain't runnin' away."

Carol chuckled and bucked her ass back, causing Daryl to hiss in her ear.

"I wasn't running," she said. "In this position I can barely shuffle. I was thinking about trying to get to the dresser, though."

Daryl wrapped his arms a little tighter and hauled her back again, biting her neck in the same place with a little more force.

"Nah…" he said. "No dresser…don't need no clothes."

Carol chuckled again. She held still and turned her head a little. He kissed the side of her face in response.

"I was actually just thinking of using it for support. The position's not bad…but I'd like something to hold onto," she said.

Daryl let up a little then, but stayed right behind her, teasing her as she went toward the dresser.

"I ain't jokin'," he said, his tone of voice not being able to match his words since he was trying not to laugh at her, "ya make a run for it and I'm comin' after ya."

"Lincoln would love that," Carol said.

Carol braced herself on the dresser and Daryl kissed the back of her neck again, sliding his hands around and cupping her breasts.

"Ya sure ya wanna do it like this?" He asked. He slid his hand down the front of her, teasing her with his fingers and she bucked back into him. He knew one thing, whether she wanted to do it here or she wanted to go to the bed, he was all for it, but it was going to have to happen fast. She'd teased him to a point now where he wasn't even sure it was going to be half as exciting for her as it was for him.

"Yeah," she said, bucking back a little more.

"Gotta stop that shit or I ain't even gonna make it there," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled.

"Then get on about it," she said. "I'm ready…go head."

Daryl reached his hand down and tapped at her thighs, convincing her to spread her legs a little farther. He guided himself into her and thrust upwards, filling her in one move. She moaned out and he brought his hands around, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples between his fingers while he worked.

"If ya gonna…" he grunted, "better cum soon, woman."

Almost on command, Carol did come. The pulsing of her muscles around him working almost as permission to Daryl's body to give in and let his own release come. When he did, he leaned against her, pushing her against the dresser, his chin resting on her shoulder as they both worked to get their breathing under control.

"Good…" Carol panted. "So good…"

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle, kissing the side of her face again and then bringing his lips down to where he'd bitten her earlier and left a small pink mark. He kissed it, sorry that he'd left it there, but apparently she didn't seem to notice or mind.

"Ya was damn good yaself," Daryl said.

When he pulled his body away from hers, Carol slipped back into the bathroom.

"I'm ready for bed," she called from in there. "If you're ready, could you go and let Lincoln and do the rounds?"

Daryl waited for a moment.

"Ya ain't sick is ya? I didn't hurt'cha did I?" He asked, worried. Carol laughed.

"Good gracious, Daryl, no! I'm fine. I had to pee, that's all. You don't have to ask if I'm OK every five minutes. I didn't go put anything in your jar did I?" Carol called.

Daryl smiled.

"Nah…ya didn't," he said. "I'll be back."

Daryl walked through the house and let the dog out. He made the final rounds of turning everything off and making sure that everything was locked. When he let Lincoln back in he went to his cookie jar and stood there, naked in the kitchen, teasing the dog a moment with the milkbone.

"There ain't never nothin' in your jar but treats," Daryl said. "Ya don't know how lucky ya are that she thinks ya so damn cute. She don't even realize ya smell like a hound dog."

Lincoln sat on the floor, looking up at him and patiently waiting for the milkbone. Finally Daryl passed it to him and the dog went straight for his doggie bed. He'd come, soon enough, his toenails tapping on the floor to join them in bed, but he always had to eat his treat on his bed first.

Daryl slipped back through the house then and found Carol in bed. He flipped off the bedroom light and went over, immediately crawling under the covers on his side of the bed. He hovered over her, finding her in the darkness and wrapping his hands around her waist. He kissed her deeply and played with her tongue for a moment with his own.

"Gotta stop walking around the house naked," Carol said. "We're going to get caught one day and people aren't going to like it."

"Don't give a damn if they see my ass," Daryl growled, kissing her forehead. "Just means they ought ta learn not ta be lookin' through people's damn windows."

Carol giggled.

"Still, Daryl…at least put your boxers on, OK?" Carol said.

Daryl huffed.

"For me?" She asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Fine, I'll wear my damn boxers next time I let the dog out ta take a piss," Daryl said.

He backed up a moment and hovered over her.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked. The night light plugged into the corner of the room didn't give off much light, but apparently it was enough for her to read his thoughts by.

"Ya sure Merle ain't done nothin' today that I need ta know about? He ain't hurt ya feelin's nor nothin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled and leaned up, kissing him. She held the kiss a moment, gently biting at his lips when she pulled apart from him.

"I promise, Daryl. Everything's fine," Carol said. "Now I'm sleepy, so why don't you make me really happy and lie down here and snuggle me until I fall asleep?"

Daryl chuckled again. He brought his lips to hers, softly this time.

"I love ya, woman," he said, kissing her forehead before he shifted to the side and lifted his arm so that she could snuggle back against him.

"I love you too," Carol said.

She reached and pulled his arm around her, threading her fingers through his and pushing herself against him as she snuggled down into her pillow. Daryl kissed her shoulder. He found it hard to believe that his brother had been on good behavior…that was very unlike Merle…but he assumed it must be true because there was nothing in her demeanor to indicate otherwise.

Daryl finally decided to give up worrying. He brought his face close to her, inhaling her scent for a moment and then kissed the back of her neck before burying his own face in his pillow in anticipation of a good night's sleep.


	69. Chapter 69

**AN: Happy Friday everyone! **

**As always, thank you for your reviews! I laughed at everyone who joked about living in the neighborhood where Daryl felt free to walk around the house naked. I'm sure that there wouldn't be nearly as many complaints from the neighbors as Carol imagined. LOL**

**I hope you enjoy! **

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"So I told her of course I'd take the position," Carol said, catching up with Andrea behind the bar and starting to fill a pitcher for one of the tables. "I mean the law office offers benefits…and let's face it, after Ed's last visit and the doctor bills for my first two visits…I was starting to wonder if I wasn't going to have to ask you to take care of everything when the kid comes."

Carol glanced around, making sure that no one was paying her conversation with Andrea any attention, but that was the one good thing about working at the Watering Hole. You didn't have to edit yourself at all. Everyone was too drunk to pay you any attention anyway and if they did hear something they'd never remember it since they were likely to drink until they had no idea what had happened the night before anyway.

"I think it's a good idea," Andrea said. "I mean who doesn't want a desk job with benefits that pays better than their sucky ass waitressing job. If you weren't…well…you know…then I'd probably fight you for it."

Carol snickered.

"It's good too, though, because it's a Monday through Friday job and it's over by five. I can still get in Saturdays and Sundays at Lula's which are the two biggest days and I can pull Thursday to Saturday nights here. I'm still able to hang on to my highest profit hours," Carol said.

Andrea didn't respond to her. She took the tray of shot glasses she'd been filling and started back down her line of tables while Carol took the pitcher in one hand and a stack of glasses in the other and headed to the table she was supposed to be waiting on.

When they got back around the bar, Andrea knit her brows at Carol.

"Wait, so you're going to keep working here and at Lula's _and_ you're going to work at the law office?" Andrea asked, downing a shot and dropping the shot glass into the dish bin on the side of the bar.

Carol nodded at her.

"I'm only going to be at Lula's two days a week and here three nights a week, so it's not that big of a deal," Carol said.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong," Andrea said, putting on a big show to scratch her head, "but aren't you supposed to take it easy? I mean instead of adding a job wouldn't you ideally lose one of them?"

"Maybe in some perfect world," Carol said. "I need to make as much money as I can, though. I can't pull all three once the kid's here."

Andrea nodded her head a little. She shrugged and took another shot. Carol was used to the process and watched as she tossed that shot glass into the same bin as before.

"What's Daryl think about it?" Andrea asked.

Carol shrugged and busied herself with wiping down the bar.

"There's nothing for him to think about it," Carol said. "He doesn't know so much what I'm doing as he just knows that I'm at work, and if the sun's down, it means I'm here."

"Yeah…" Andrea said, "about that…are you going to keep working here?"

Carol shrugged.

"Until I have to stop I am," Carol said.

Andrea nodded a little.

"I guess it makes sense. You're not going to find a job where you get tipped like this to fill the night hours," Andrea said. "It's gonna be pretty damn funny though…" She chuckled to herself.

"What are you laughing at?" Carol asked swatting Andrea on the shoulder with the rag she used to wipe the bar down with. Andrea caught the rag and tugged it out of Carol's hand.

"I just have a great image of you…absolutely fucking humongous…waiting tables on these assholes," Andrea said, laughing. "Don't worry, though, honey. I'll still split my tips with you."

"Shut up," Carol said, snickering. "I've got to do whatever the hell I can to try and make sure I've got as much money as possible saved up."

"No, really," Andrea said, trying to straighten herself up, "I really do understand. But you've got to admit that it's going to look like something straight out of some kind of white trash television documentary or something like that."

Carol shook her head.

"We don't have to say anything about it to the kid when it's older. As far as it has to know, I spent the whole time at home knitting booties or something," Carol said.

Andrea laughed again. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, that image is almost as bad. Lincoln would be unravelling the damn things all over the house as quick as you got them put together," Andrea said.

Carol rolled her eyes. She saw two men stumbling out of one of her tables and heading toward the door, the drunker of them bumping a guy who was playing pool. The man playing pool turned around quickly yelling obscenities and Carol and Andrea both braced themselves for the fight that was very possibly about to break out. The drunk man, however, profusely apologized and the man playing pool was kind enough to forgive him this once for his intoxicated transgression. The two drunks stumbled on out of the bar and Carol watched them make their way out the door.

"We've got to get a bouncer or something," Carol said, pulling one of the trays out from under the bar and starting around so that she could clear the table.

"I'll talk to Loretta about it," Andrea said with a sigh.

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Andrea was surprised when the man, Philip, came back through the door of the bar. He took a seat in a corner booth, overdressed again for the likes of the Watering Hole, and sat facing the direction of the bar. Andrea hesitated a moment, but seeing that Carol was cleaning tables and Philip was blatantly looking at her, she stepped from behind the bar and started in his direction, plastering on her best smile for the customer and hoping that he had a little something to help make both their nights heftier.

"I didn't expect to see you back so soon," Andrea said.

Philip obviously eyed her up and down.

"Don't you look quaint tonight," he said, smiling.

Andrea smiled in response. She wasn't sure what she looked. She was wearing jeans, a white tank top, and to ward off the chill outside she'd put on one of Merle's long sleeve red plaid shirts and tied it under her breasts to make it more stylish and less like she was announcing to the men of the bar that she had a boyfriend. Apparently it worked because it hadn't deterred Philip from making some comment about her appearance.

"What can I get you to drink?" Andrea asked. "Scotch?"

Philip smiled again and nodded a little.

"Do you remember everyone's drink orders?" He asked.

"Almost," Andrea responded. It was true. She had a knack for remembering people's preferred drinks, especially when the people were normal patrons of the bar or they were like Philip and stood out, ordering something that wasn't regularly requested. "You're probably the first person to order Scotch here since the bar opened…unless it was some hairless little boy that just turned twenty one and didn't know what to order. They seemed to always think Scotch is going to make them look sophisticated or some shit like that."

Philip smirked.

"And does it make them look sophisticated?" He asked.

Andrea shook her head, smiling.

"No, usually it makes them look sick. Doesn't take long before their buddies are carrying them out anyway," Andrea said. It was always a nightmare when someone came in for their twenty first birthday with their pals. You could bet that everyone was going to consider a dollar a good tip for the whole night, they were going to drink far too much, and four out of five of them were going to throw up. You were lucky if any of them made it to the bathroom first.

"Well, I'll try not to get sick," Philip said.

Andrea nodded a little at him and went back to the bar where Carol was serving one of the regulars who liked to sit near where Merle and Daryl used to sit when they frequented the place. Andrea dug around and pulled the scotch out, pouring it over ice.

"Scotch?" Carol asked. Andrea saw her looking around.

"Corner," Andrea said. "To the right of the door. His name is Philip and this is the second time he's been here. Not exactly Watering Hole material, if you ask me."

"If he's been in here more than once then I'd say he's Watering Hole material," Carol said. Usually the people that ended up in there on accident were either road tired people looking for a quick break from the monotony of the blacktop and decided to settle for the spot, or they opened the door, stepped about a foot inside the place, and turned around without a word. There weren't too many repeat customers that weren't regulars or didn't end up becoming regulars.

"I don't know," Andrea said. "He tips well, but you can tell he knows he's charming and he uses it."

Carol raised her eyebrows at Andrea.

"So you think he's charming?" Carol cooed.

Andrea rolled her eyes and picked up the glass she'd prepared, not wanting the man to become suspicious about their gossip or wonder about his missing drink.

Andrea took the drink to his table and put it down. Philip picked it up and sipped at the liquid.

"Perfect," he said with a smile.

"Where's your friend?" Andrea asked, noticing that he was short the nervous guy who didn't want anything to do with the alcohol or the bathroom…not that she could have blamed him on the bathroom call.

Philip looked at the empty booth almost as though he were discovering for the first time that the man was not across from him.

"Milton had some business to take care of," Philip said. "He didn't want to go out, but I felt like getting out."

"So you came here," Andrea said. She leaned on the table propping her other hand on her hip. "You just don't seem like this would be your kind of place."

"Neither do you," Philip said, taking a sip from his drink. "Yet I hoped you'd be here." He smiled and reached one hand out, trailing his finger for just a second on Andrea's finger.

Andrea wasn't sure what it was, but the act made her shudder a little and he moved his hand quickly, almost as if it had never happened.

She was used to the drunks around grabbing her ass, grabbing her boobs, pinching her…once or twice she'd had a few try to sloppily kiss her. The touching didn't bother her, at least not normally. She always chocked it up to overly drunk and tired working men getting their minds scrambled by liquor. Most of them would be horrified if she saw them the next day in the A and P and broke it to them that when they drank they got a little handsy. She never told them about it, though, because it didn't bother her enough. It was almost part of the job description.

Yet something about Philip's touch had made a shudder run through her.

"If you need anything else," Andrea said, just wave or something and one of us will check on you."

She started to turn and Philip called her back.

"Where is the other woman that was here the last time?" Philip asked.

"Mary Ann?" Andrea asked. She wondered now if he might be interested in the young girl and was just pretending to have some interest in her solely in order to practice his flattery skills. "She's gone now. School's going to be starting back and she had to head back to college."

Philip nodded and looked around Andrea toward where Carol was standing and entertaining the men she'd take the pitcher to earlier.

"And who's that?" Philip asked.

"That's Carol," Andrea said.

"Carol, hmmm?" Philip asked. "And does she work here with you every night or is she temporary too?"

Andrea shrugged.

"She works almost as many nights as I do," Andrea said. "I've got to pick up a few extra here and there. It isn't free to go back to school." Andrea turned then, looking for a way to end her conversation with Philip without being rude and risking the loss of a tip. "Let us know if you need anything," she said.

"I will do that, Andrea," Philip said to her back. Andrea stopped at another table, taking note that they needed a pitcher, and she circled around the pool table taking note of anyone there who might need a refill.

On her way back to the bar to get drinks for those who had run dry, Andrea noticed that Philip kept looking in her direction and in the direction of Carol, though he clearly didn't need anything yet and was set on scotch for at least a bit.

"I think you have an admirer," Carol said as Andrea was filling up a pitcher for the table that needed it.

"Four tequila shots and a beer for the pool tables," Andrea said in response.

Carol immediately went to getting the drinks together and loaded on a tray for easier delivery. Andrea shot another glance in Philip's direction and he caught her eye, smiling at her. She smiled back so as to not make it obvious that she'd simply been throwing looks in his direction and had been caught.

"I don't know," she said. "I guess so. I don't know what it is exactly, but he's that smarmy kind of charming, you know what I mean?"

"You mean like Merle?" Carol asked with a chuckle.

Andrea snickered.

"Something like that…I guess you could say. But Merle's smarmy charm, as ridiculous as it sounds, seems more sincere than this guy's…I don't know what his deal is," Andrea said.

"Maybe he just likes you?" Carol asked.

"I don't know," Andrea said. She sighed and picked up the filled pitcher.

"Tell you what," Carol said, following behind her with the tray of drinks for the pool tables, "if he comes in here again I'll wait on him and I'll let you know what I think about him. Then you'll have an outsider's opinion on whether or not he's genuinely interested or he's just some kind of greasy jerk."

Andrea chuckled at Carol and took the beer to the table, smiling and speaking to the men again, making sure that they hadn't come up with some additional order in her absence. She went back to the bar then and waited on Carol who was coming back with her tray loaded down with the dirty shot glasses that had been lining the sides of the pool tables.

"I guess you've got a deal," Andrea said, seeing Carol cast a quick glance in Philip's direction. Andrea poured herself another shot and took it, watching as Philip scanned the room, his eyes lingering a little when they fell over the bar area that she and Carol were standing behind.


	70. Chapter 70

**AN: So here's a little something for you! I hope you're enjoying your weekend! As you can see, I'm spending mine relaxing and writing fanfic! **

**Reviews are always appreciated. I'm glad to see that you are all curious about Philip. We'll surely be hearing more from him. **

**I hope you enjoy! **

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Carol got out of her truck and made her way toward Michonne who was standing in the parking lot waiting on her. It was her first morning at the law office and she didn't quite know what to expect.

"Good morning," Michonne called, walking toward Carol and hugging her.

"Morning," Carol said, returning Michonne's contagious smile.

"How are you feeling?" Michonne asked, wrinkling her brow a bit.

Carol nodded, smiling.

"I'm fine," she said.

Michonne moved beside her, rubbing her back a little as they walked toward the door.

"You look a little yuck," Michonne said.

Carol chuckled.

"OK, maybe I feel a little yuck too, but it'll pass," she said.

"We have clean bathrooms too," Michonne said with a chuckle. "Trust me, I've spent a little time on my knees in them before also."

Michonne unlocked the door and led Carol inside. The smell of the offices was something that always struck Carol. She wasn't sure why they smelled the way they did, exactly, but there was something distinct about it.

Michonne motioned to Carol and Carol went around behind the desk, sliding her purse into the corner. She was there early so that Michonne could go over the ropes with her. She needed to know what her new job entailed.

"It shouldn't be that bad," Michonne said, "but you are kind of a jack of all trades around here."

"I can handle that," Carol said.

"And I know you can," Michonne responded. "So basically your primary job is answering the phones and keeping up with appointments. She shuffled some things around on the desk. "These are the hard copies for appointments and then you're also going to put them into the computer." She moved the mouse and the computer blinked on. "Don't ever turn that thing off," Michonne said. "It's too old to still be living here, but my father won't let it go until it's absolutely dead so we make do with it. If you turn it off, though, then you'll spend the next two hours of your life praying it comes back on." She opened up the program and it loaded. Michonne showed Carol how things were logged in there. She went over how to use a few other programs as well.

"What about billing?" Carol asked.

"We take care of that individually so when something needs to be sent out you'll get it from me or my father and you'll mail it out that way. Daddy doesn't come in except for maybe three days a week and that's part time unless he's doing something for a friend. He's unofficially retired. Mostly it's just me that you'll be dealing with," Michonne said.

Carol nodded her understanding.

"Every now and again I'll send you on errands to pick things up and if we have something that needs to go out but mail's already been here, then I'll send you to the post office. The longest trips you'll have to make are up to the county courthouse every now and again, but I try to keep that to a minimum and I always let you go early and just take the rest of the day off if that can't be avoided," Michonne said.

"Sounds great," Carol said, smiling. "I think I can handle it."

"Of course," Michonne said, "if you have any questions or anything you can let me know. I'm line one on the phone and daddy is line 2. Come on and I'll show you the little break room. We keep it stocked but there's a fridge and stuff in there if you want to bring in something special."

Carol got up and followed Michonne down the hall to a tiny little kitchenette type room. It had a refrigerator, coffee pot, hot pot, microwave, and sink. The two cabinets were in there were opened by Michonne to reveal an assortment of food.

"Daddy's bottom drawer in his file cabinet is stocked with all kinds of sweets if you're into that or the little one makes you think you might be," Michonne said with a snicker. "Daddy thinks it's a secret, but I know it's there and he never says anything to me when things go missing."

Carol smiled.

"OK, that's good to know," she said.

She watched as Michonne started some coffee going in the coffee pot.

"I drink a lot of coffee," Michonne said. "I know it's terrible, but I'm an addict. I hope the smell of coffee doesn't bother you because I keep it brewing nearly all day."

Carol shook her head.

"I love the smell of coffee," she said. "I have to admit, too, that I like it more now than I did before I was pregnant."

"Well then you're going to be thrilled around here," Michonne said. "We take lunch officially between twelve and one so you're welcome to leave. I hardly ever do, I just eat in my office. You're welcome to come and eat with me, though."

"I'd like that," Carol said.

"You want some tea or anything? I've got a ton of hot tea flavors too," Michonne said, pulling a large basket out of one of the cabinets and holding it out to Carol. Carol burrowed through the basket and came up with one that looked appetizing.

Michonne showed her where a cup was and got water heating in the hot pot.

"I'm not overwhelming you am I?" Michonne asked, looking worried. "Tyreese warned me about that. He told me not to be too overbearing because apparently I have a habit of getting that way."

Carol smiled. She knew that Michonne did indeed have a habit of getting that way, but she didn't think that was a problem today. She thought Michonne was handling things nicely. There was always a lot to take in on the first day at a new job. It seemed like every job you did, even if you'd done jobs like it before, required a lot of new information at first. Carol had never worked at an office like this before, though. It did help, in her opinion, that her boss was one of her best friends.

"You're doing great," Carol said. "You can tell Tyreese that you took his advice wonderfully. I'm not overwhelmed, just trying to soak it all in."

Michonne smiled.

"Well, it won't take you too long to get used to it," she said. "Then you'll know this place even better than I do."

Michonne fixed her coffee and Carol got a mug out of the cabinet and fixed her tea to steep.

"Daddy's not coming in today," Michonne said. "So you won't have to worry about that. I've got quite a few appointments, but the first isn't until about ten, I think. So you've got a little time to adjust and just relax a little. I'm going to be working in my office, but if you need anything you can let me know. Amy finished the organizing that I had for her so really right now you've got time to just read or whatever you want to do."

"OK," Carol said. She'd brought her book with her, anticipating that there might be some down time at a law office in Sweet Junction.

"Oh!" Michonne said, jumping a little at her own thought. "I just remembered…Rick had some things to give me. If you don't mind, can you run over to the jail and pick those up? I know I'm already sending you on errands…" Michonne frowned and it made Carol smile.

"Michonne, it's fine. I can go and pick those up. That's my job now, remember?" Carol asked. Michonne nodded.

"Fine," she said. She looked at her watch. "Well, I'm going to get started. If you can pick those things up, I'd appreciate it. Rick should be there by now, or at least someone should be able to let you in. It's just a couple of folders so it's no big deal. Finish your tea first."

Carol smiled again and nodded.

"I'll do that," Carol said. "I want to play with a few of those programs, so I'll do that while I finish the tea and then I'll go and pick up those files for you. You go do what you need to get done and don't stress about the fact that I'm here. I'm just working here, and while I'm here I'm nothing but a secretary that you don't even know."

"Except at lunch time," Michonne said, pointing her finger at Carol.

"Except at lunch time," Carol said.

Michonne smiled and walked past Carol, squeezing her on the shoulder as she stepped out the little break room. Carol picked up her mug and walked back to the desk to start playing with the files on the ancient computer.

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Carol walked in the door of the jail and pushed her sunglasses up on her head. There was no secretary there, and she might have thought the place was empty if the door wasn't unlocked.

"Hello?" She called out. "Rick?"

A moment later Rick Grimes came walking from the back. He looked at her, a little confused.

"Carol," he said. "Hi. Something wrong?"

Carol shook her head, smiling.

"I just started working at the law office for Michonne," she explained. "She sent me to pick up some things that you have for her."

Rick smiled and recognition covered his face.

"I remember her saying now that you were coming to work for her," he said. "Come on back with me a minute, I need to get those together."

Carol followed Rick back to his office and sat down in one of the chairs while he fumbled around in a file cabinet.

"You know Lori's coming back to work up here," he said. "It's always an adjustment when all the summer help goes running back to school."

Carol giggled. That was how Sweet Junction ran. It seemed like in the summertime everywhere you went there were college students running any job they could or high school students filling the stores as stock people and checkout workers. The high school students tended to remain, though only during after school hours, but the college students disappeared. A good number of them would never really return to Sweet Junction. After college they'd only come back there to visit relatives until the family they had their passed on. Only a handful of people really came back. Usually they found themselves trapped there for one reason or another and they stayed simply because once Sweet Junction had its hooks in you it seemed almost impossible to get away.

"That's how I ended up at Michonne's," Carol said.

"Mmmm hmmm…" Rick drew out, still looking through things. He glanced over his shoulder a moment at Carol. "Amy was working up there wasn't she? Andrea's little sister?"

Carol nodded but Rick wasn't looking at her anymore.

"Yeah, she was," Carol said.

"Good kid," Rick said. "Always was a good kid."

Carol didn't say anything. She'd heard about Amy from time to time when Andrea felt like talking about her. She couldn't deny that Amy had been a good kid. She'd been a start student, a pageant queen, a cheerleader, homecoming queen, queen of a few festivals…and now she was at college with honors. She'd been a good kid, but she'd also had life more or less served to her on the silver platter of "good kidliness" by her parents. Carol knew it was a very sore spot for Andrea, and she almost hated to hear anyone in Sweet Junction praise Amy any more than they already had. She had picked up, probably from being friends with Andrea, the feeling that every time someone referenced the girl as a "good kid" it was because in their back of their minds they were making the silent contrast and saying that she "wasn't like Andrea".

It was true, of course, Amy was nothing like Andrea. To be at least somewhat genetically alike they couldn't have been greater opposites, but Carol felt like it was a blow to Andrea every time she heard it. The idea that Amy was a good person, but Andrea wasn't. Andrea was different than Amy, but she wasn't some kind of living horror. Unfortunately, her reputation would have anyone believe that she was a lot worse than she really was.

"Here you go," Rick said finally, ignoring Carol's silence on the topic of Amy Duff. He turned around and passed her a few folders. She took them.

"Thank you," she said, standing up.

Rick reached out, catching her arm.

"How are things?" He asked.

Carol felt her stomach clench. That was one of those questions that caught her about the same way she imagined people talking about Amy caught Andrea. She forced a smile.

"Things are good," she said. Things really were good, and she was happy in her life, but she knew that when people asked her those questions, especially people that weren't close to her, they weren't thinking about her life now and they weren't asking how she felt about her little house or her relationship with Daryl. They were really still dwelling in the past and asking about Ed. Ed might be out of the picture, but he was still in everyone's minds.

"I heard you're living with one of the Dixon men," Rick said. He look concerned.

Carol nodded.

"Daryl," Carol said. "Yes, he's living with me."

Rick nodded a little and walked over, sitting on the edge of his desk. He scratched at the back of his neck.

"They're a rough bunch, Carol," Rick said. "I looked him up. He's got a record for a couple of things. His brother's far from clean."

Carol swallowed. She knew about Merle's past problems and Daryl had mentioned that he'd been hauled in a time or two in various places for misdemeanors of one sort or the other, but they just didn't sit around and converse about all the different convictions that had been made. It was in the past, and she was trying very hard to figure out how to let the past be just that…for them, for herself, for all of them.

"We all make mistakes," Carol said, forcing a smile.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again," Rick said. "What Ed did was terrible, and I'd hate to know you're getting wrapped up with the wrong type. Just be careful and if anything…and I mean anything…happens, you let me know. Don't let it go so long this time."

Carol swallowed again and shook her head.

"It's not like that with Daryl," she said. "He's good to me. He's not like Ed was."

Carol appreciated the fact that Rick was concerned about her, but just talking about Ed and thinking about the possibility of being trapped in anything even similar to her life with him made her heart start to race. She didn't like the feeling and she wanted it to calm back down.

Rick nodded.

"And I really hope he's not," Rick said. "But if anything happens, let me know. You have my home phone number. I don't care if I'm on duty or not. I'll come down there."

Carol nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "But don't worry, nothing's going to happen."

Rick stood up then. He smiled a little, nodding slightly and then he crossed his arms over his chest.

"What about Ed?" He asked. "I know they locked him up, but he hasn't tried to contact you or anything, has he?"

Carol shook her head.

"No," she said. "I haven't heard anything from him since that night."

Rick smiled.

"Good. Maybe they'll straighten him out in there. He could use it," Rick said.

"He could use a lot of things," Carol said.

She didn't know what prison was really like. Really all she knew about prison came from movies and she knew that movies could be misleading about things. She hoped, though, that Ed was getting his. Sometimes she thought about it and she hoped that his life sucked there and that he'd ended up with a really rough cellmate that happened to like to beat the shit out of assholes like Ed on a regular basis.

"How long is he in for?" Rick asked.

Carol shook her head. She realized she didn't know. Michonne had said a long time, but she wasn't sure exactly what that meant. She hadn't asked about it, and she hadn't really worried about it. He was gone and he was in prison. That was really all that concerned her.

"I'm not sure," Carol said. Now she was trying to swallow. She could feel the tea she drank and the muffin she'd decided was a good breakfast choice brewing in her stomach and the last thing she wanted to do was violently vomit all over Rick at the moment. "Can we please stop talking about Ed?" She asked, forcing out the words.

Rick wrinkled his brow and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Rick said.

Carol shook her head, still trying to hold back the nausea against the salty taste that was rising in her mouth.

"Fine," she said. "I just…I just don't want to talk about Ed."

"Of course," Rick said, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's alright, really," Carol said, forcing a smile, the rise of nausea passing a little. She took a breath and blew it out as quietly as possible.

Rick chuckled a little, shaking his head.

"Boy, I've stepped all over myself here, haven't I? Lori says I'm great at doing that," Rick said.

Carol shook her head.

"No, it's fine. You didn't mean any harm. I'm just not quite over all of it, I guess," Carol said. She wondered if she'd ever be entirely over all of it.

Rick rubbed her back for a second before dropping his hand.

"Well, hopefully it won't be too long. You can finally get on with your life, there's no need to be worried about him, right? He's got his own problems now. The prison isn't exactly a Caribbean cruise," Rick said. "It's still probably a little too nice for him, though."

Carol smiled a little. She was calming down and was glad of that.

"You're right there, too," she said. "I really need to get these back to Michonne. It's my first day and I don't want the phone ringing off the hook and making her wonder where I am when I'm supposed to be working."

Rick nodded and walked her back to the front.

"Really, I'm sorry," he said. Carol held her hand up to him to let him know that everything was fine. "Why don't you let me know some time when you might be interested in coming over for dinner? I know Lori has asked me about you and I'm sure she'd love to have you over. I don't think you've seen Carl in a long time, have you?"

Carol shook her head, smiling.

"Not since he was a tiny thing," she said. "I'd like that. I'll let you know."

Rick smiled at her and she thanked him for the files. She let herself out the door and took a deep breath. There was something almost instantly calming about the hint of fall in the air. It was one of her favorite seasons. She stood, for a moment, on the side walk and finished calming herself. Then she got in the truck and headed back toward the office with the files. She was off this evening and she was thinking that she might like to make something nice for dinner. Something that would remind her that fall was coming. Daryl would like that, and she thought she'd really like to have the house smelling all warm and inviting when he got home from work.


	71. Chapter 71

**AN: I hope everyone's weekend is going great! Here's a little something to read if you're bored! **

**I hope you enjoy! **

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Carol glanced out the window again, checking to see if Daryl's truck had pulled up in the driveway yet. It hadn't. She knew he'd be home soon, but she wasn't sure when. Merle was outside under the carport, tinkering with his bike. She'd been ignoring him since she got home, a little earlier than she expected since Michonne wanted to leave early for something she had to do, and she'd been trying to get around to all the cooking she was shuffling. Dinner was simple and it was ready. She hadn't really meant for the cooking to explode out of control like it had, but she had a pan of oatmeal raisin cookies cooling on the counter and an apple pie was baking now in addition to the dinner that she had covered and sitting on the stove in hopes it wouldn't be too cold when Daryl got there to eat it.

Carol walked over, testing the cookies with her finger. They were cool enough to pick up now at least, so she gathered three of them up in her hand and stepped out the door to the carport. Merle was sitting on the ground, talking to himself or to the bike. She couldn't really tell which.

"Brought you some cookies," she said, walking over and holding out two of them, the other tucked in her hand for herself.

Merle stopped what he was doing and looked up at her.

"Cookies?" He asked. She nodded and he chuckled. "Did ya bring me a fuckin' glass a' milk too, mom?" He said.

Carol wrinkled her brow.

"If you don't want my cookies," she said, "you can just say no thanks. You don't have to be an asshole about someone offering you cookies."

She started to turn and Merle reached out, grabbing at her pants leg.

"Calm tha fuck down," Merle said. "I'll eat'cha damn cookies."

He wiped his hands on his shirt and reached up, taking the cookies that Carol offered him.

"I don't want it to be a chore for you," Carol said. "Please don't feel you have to eat them if it's going to ruin your whole day."

"You're a smart ass, ya know that?" Merle replied.

Carol shrugged a little and walked over to the step in front of the door, sitting down and leaning back against the door to eat the cookie. She had intended to make the pie, but not the cookies. Really those had been an afterthought and when she'd thought about them while walking around the store it seemed to her that oatmeal raisin cookies would be the best thing on Earth to eat right now. As soon as she bit into it she was pretty sure that it was the next best thing to something like food directly from God.

Merle was gobbling his cookies, so she guessed he must not have thought they were as terrible as he let on in the beginning.

"You like them?" Carol asked, trying to eat hers slowly so it lasted. Otherwise she feared she might just pull a chair over to the bar and sit there until the pan was gone, and then she'd probably spend the rest of the night throwing up.

"Not too damn bad," Merle said. When he finished the cookies he fumbled around, clattering things against the cement. Carol finally finished hers and dusted her hands of on the bottom of her pants, wrapping her fingers around her knees.

"How's your bike coming?" She asked.

Merle chuckled.

"Like any damn bike ya only been workin' on a couple a' days," Merle said. "Don't try ta talk about shit ya don't know nothin' 'bout. I hate it when women start tryin' ta do that 'less they tryin' ta get a piece, an' if that's what they after it'd be a whole lot fuckin' faster ta just say ya tryin' ta get laid."

Carol sighed and rolled her eyes, though she knew that Merle didn't see it.

"Well I'm not trying to get laid," she said, feeling a little frustrated by Merle's snarly attitude.

"Yeah…I reckon not. Baby brothah done laid ya good, I reckon," Merle said.

Carol sighed. Merle could be plain disgusting. She wondered if somewhere underneath there was something worth seeing. She assumed something had to be hidden under there for Andrea to stay around him, though she was beginning to think that Andrea might be some kind of angel sent on a mission from God or something to put up with Merle and not go running and screaming at times.

Carol pushed herself up from the step and dusted the dirt on her palms off on her thighs. At about the same time Merle got up from his position.

"Reckon I'm headin' out," he said, wiping his hands on his pants and digging in his pocket to come up a minute later with the keys to Andrea's car. "Andrea's workin' at that Korean joint an' she gets right pissy if'n she's gotta stand outside too damn long."

Carol simply looked at him.

"And you don't want her to get pissy, right?" Carol asked after a moment.

Merle smiled at her…or smirked at her really.

"Pain in my ass when she's got a mind ta be pissy," Merle said.

"Or you just don't want her mad at you because you care?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrow.

Merle shook his head, sucking his teeth a little.

"Get'cha ass inside an' bake ya damn cookies," Merle said. "I'm sure Derlina loves tha hell outta that." He chuckled a little.

Carol hadn't baked cookies for Daryl before, but she hoped he'd like them. She didn't like Merle's attitude, but she knew not to push her luck. The chuckle very likely disguised some other comment he was going to make and he was holding it back, offering a chuckle instead to try to stay pleasant as per their agreement. She turned around, grabbing the door handle and opening the door.

"Tell Andrea hi for me," Carol said, not commenting on Daryl and the cookies. "See you later, Merle," she said, slipping into the house. She made her way back to the window and watched a few minutes later as Merle backed Andrea's car out of the driveway.

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When Daryl came through the door the flood of smells hit him almost as soon as Lincoln came flying toward his legs and caused him to begin the "you're home" dance that had to take place whenever you tried to move through the kitchen.

He leaned down, picking the dog up to avoid stepping on him.

"Smells fuckin' good in here," Daryl said, ignoring the dog squirming around and trying to lick his face.

Carol was standing at the sink and she turned around, grinning at him.

"You think?" She asked.

"Hell yeah I do!" Daryl said. He couldn't pinpoint all the smells that were bombarding him, but he knew that it smelled like something he wanted to eat, that was for damn sure. "What'cha makin'?"

Carol smiled again.

"I made chicken and steamed vegetables for dinner," Carol said. "Not too special, but I baked oatmeal raisin cookies and the apple pie is almost done for dessert."

Lincoln had settled down now, panting against Daryl from the sheer exhaustion of the overwhelming excitement of having anyone walk through the door. Daryl carried him over and leaned over to kiss Carol. She tangled her tongue with his and when she pulled apart from him she lowered her head and nuzzled at the dog.

"Damn," Daryl said, licking his lips a little. "Ya taste almost as damn good as it smells in here."

Carol giggled a little.

"I may have spoiled my dinner with a cookie…or four…or maybe five," she said.

Daryl snickered.

"Did'ja save me any cookies, woman?" He asked.

Carol blushed a little and Daryl leaned over, putting the dog back on the floor.

"There are some left," she said. "I sealed them up in a bowl over there on the counter. If I can see them I keep eating them."

Daryl pulled her to him and kissed her again. He growled a little when she reached around him, slipping her hands in the back of his jeans and scratching at the skin there.

"Well ya taste damn good," he said. "I reckon I can forgive ya for eatin' the lion's share a' the cookies."

Carol backed off him and playfully slapped at his chest.

"I didn't eat the lion's share!" She said. "Merle had two and the rest are for you. You can have some tonight if you want it and take them to work with you tomorrow. I'm going to send some pie with you too for Hershel and Jo."

Daryl smiled and shrugged a little.

"Whatever ya want," he said. "I got time ta shower so's I can eat my supper without smellin' cow shit all over me?"

Carol nodded.

"The pie's about to come out and I'm going to put dinner in the oven to warm it up a bit. It should be almost perfect when you're ready to eat," she said.

Daryl smiled and kissed her gently again, tipping her face up with his finger, before he turned and rushed toward the bedroom to get as quick of a shower as he could.

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Daryl was leaned against the arm of the couch, stretched out. Carol was laid across him, leaning against his chest and reading her book. Lincoln was stretched across both their legs. Every now and again he sighed and readjusted himself as if to declare to them that wasn't ideally how he would have liked the couch time to be, but it was as good as it was getting for him.

Carol sighed a little and brought Daryl out of his daydream. He squeezed her little, his arms wrapped around her.

"Are you mad I ate too much and I'm not in the mood to have sex now?" Carol asked, leaning back farther into him. Daryl chuckled a little. He leaned in, smelling her hair. She smelled like her familiar scent mixed with cinnamon.

"Nah," he said. "I'm pretty full up myself. In fact I'm kinda glad ya layin' ta the side there. If ya was mashin' my stomach any I reckon I'd be the one tonight in the bathroom heavin' an' 'pologizin' for it."

"I'm sorry," Carol said, a little forlornly.

"There ya go again with that shit," Daryl said.

The apologizing had been in her jar for the night. Daryl didn't think she should apologize all the damn time for things that she didn't have a single damn reason to be sorry for. It made him feel like he'd done something wrong to make her feel guilty about things she couldn't even control. He understood that she felt like she had to apologize because she'd spent so many damn years telling that fucker Ed that she was sorry for everything right down to breathing, but Daryl wanted her to understand he wasn't Ed and he didn't think she needed to say she was sorry unless she'd actually done something that merited apology.

"I'll stop," Carol said. "I promise."

Daryl squeezed her into him again gently. She laid her book down in her lap a minute, still open. He rubbed his hands on her and pulled her shirt up a little, rubbing his calloused fingers across the soft skin of her stomach, making her twitch a little under them.

"Ya kinda puffier than usual tonight," Daryl said.

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Carol asked. Daryl could tell there was a little challenge in her voice and he chuckled.

"Not hardly," he said. "Is that supper, though, or is it baby?"

Carol put her hand over his, her fingertips rubbing at the same skin he had his hands over.

"I think that's just dinner," she said. She yawned a little. "I think it's going to be a while before I can blame that on the baby."

"Yeah?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," Carol responded, moving her head around a little against his chest. He leaned in, kissing the top of her head a little. He chuckled and raked his fingers lightly down her side so that she squealed at him and squirmed, disturbing Lincoln.

"Don't!" She gasped.

Daryl chuckled again but stopped tickling her.

"I think that shit's cookies," he said. "That's what the hell I think it is."

Carol turned a little, but she couldn't see him from her position so she just scrubbed her cheek a little against his chest.

"That's what you think it is, huh?" She asked.

"Yep, sure do," Daryl responded. "I think it's all them damn cookies ya ate."

Carol giggled.

"I think it might be cookies too," she said.

Daryl rubbed his hands over her stomach again, this time without the intent to tickle. The skin underneath his fingertips still flinched, as it always did, but she didn't break into the fit of giggling that she did when he intentionally tickled her.

"How long ya reckon it's gonna be 'fore ya all puffed up 'cause a' the baby an' not 'cause ya thought it'd be a good damn idea ta eat dinner an' a whole damn pan a' cookies?" He asked.

"I didn't eat the whole pan," Carol protested. "And I don't know. A while, Daryl. I've never done this before, but I'm barely even two months. I don't know…when do women start showing? Maybe like when I'm six months or something."

Daryl shifted a little, sliding himself down a bit into the couch.

"Are you still going to like me when I'm big and fat?" Carol asked.

Daryl couldn't imagine Carol pregnant…at least not what he thought of when he thought of pregnant women. He always thought of the really big women that you saw waddling around in public. The ones that you knew from space were pregnant. He tried, sometimes, to put her head on that image, but it didn't work in his mind so he figured he'd just wait it out and see it for himself. Regardless, though, of what she looked like, he didn't think it was going to change the way he felt about her.

"I'm still gonna love ya," he said, nuzzling her hair.

Carol rubbed her hands on his.

"I'm almost eight weeks," Carol said. "And from the pictures in my book, the baby still looks like a little worm or something."

Daryl chuckled.

"Looks like a worm?" He asked.

"Yep, like a worm," Carol said. She picked the book up that she'd rested on her lap and flipped through the pages. Finally she held it up at him. He moved his hands away from her body long enough to adjust the book and pull it closer to him to study the picture.

"Damn sure does look like some kinda worm…or a bug or some shit at least," Daryl said. "Kinda gross…"

Carol moved the book.

"Don't call our baby gross!" She said. "What if it can hear you? What if it's first memory of you is that you called it gross?"

Daryl chuckled.

"I reckon if both of us agree the damn thing looks like a worm or a bug, then it'll understand why the fuck I said it was kind a gross," Daryl said. "If'n it don't then it can put it in my cookie jar."

Carol shifted a little, playfully elbowing Daryl in the chest. He reached and rubbed the spot, chucking at her a little. He stretched his legs a bit, disturbing Lincoln once more.

"Come on, woman. We both gotta get up in the mornin' an' we might as well sleep in the bed. Ya done readin' anyway," Daryl said.

Carol stretched and started to sit up, putting the book on the back of the couch.

"You're right," she said, yawning.

Daryl got up and whistled to Lincoln, opening the door. The dog galloped down his steps and ran out. He was great about going in or out anytime you wanted, unless of course you were late for something or you had to piss something awful. Then he'd take all damn day to do what he usually did in a couple of seconds.

Daryl walked around switching things off and locking doors while he waited for the dog to do what he was going to do. When Lincoln trotted back into the house, Daryl offered him a treat without any ceremony, feeling pretty tired and ready to get to bed.

Carol got up and locked the door that led to the yard, the one they referred to as Lincoln's door. She stood by it and waited on Daryl to shuffle past, headed toward the bedroom.

"Come on bug woman," Daryl said. "Let's get'cha ass ta bed."

Carol sighed and followed after him.

"I never should have shown you that," she said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Would ya rather I called ya cookie monster?" Daryl asked.

Carol giggled in response.

"I've been called worse things, I suppose," she said.

Daryl dropped back, waiting for her to pass him and slip into the bedroom. He stood by the light switch until she was stripped down to her shirt and underwear and nestled under the cover. He flipped the switch off and crossed the room sliding into his side of the bed. He leaned over her then, rubbing her cheek with his thumb, her hand over his. He kissed her and she kissed him back, holding it for a second.

"Love ya," he said.

"Love you too," Carol responded.

Daryl didn't have to wait for it because as soon as he dropped to his side and tugged his pillow under his head, Carol slid back in the bed, bumping her body against his. He reached up and brushed her hair down that invaded his pillow and threatened to get into his mouth and then he dropped his arm over her, letting his fingers trail lazily over her stomach until he fell asleep.


	72. Chapter 72

**AN: So this is another Merle/Andrea chapter as we continue with our story. A little more dynamic into their relationship…and a little more about our newcomer to Sweet Junction. **

**I hope you enjoy. I will try to get you a little something else up soon. Let me know what you think! **

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It had been a very strange day for Andrea. The man, Philip, had come to the restaurant to eat only a half hour or so before closing time. They had, of course, accommodated him since Sweet Junction wasn't a place where you turned away patrons, not even if they showed up once you'd begun packing away the kitchen for the night.

He'd stayed, though, until Andrea was walking out of the restaurant, escorted by the Rhees, and he'd left just in front of her. He was waiting outside when she stepped out and fumbled in her purse for a cigarette to smoke while she waited for Merle to come by and pick her up.

"Nice little restaurant, don't you think?" He asked, standing as though he were going to smoke with Andrea, but never producing a cigarette from his pockets.

"It's alright," she responded. "If you like Korean food."

He had chuckled.

"I do like Korean food, don't you?" He asked.

"No," Andrea responded, "at least not anymore. It's a job."

The man chuckled at her and then stood there, looking around as though he were admiring some breathtaking view instead of the parking lot of a Korean restaurant stuck behind the nickel and dime store in Sweet Junction, Georgia. There wasn't much to look at unless you were an aficionado of people's worn down cars, broken asphalt, and rusty dumpsters.

"You work a lot around this town, don't you?" Philip asked. "Here, that quaint little bar…"

Andrea shrugged, taking a drag on her cigarette and scanning the area for any signs of Merle's impending arrival. He was already a little late and Andrea wished he'd have his ass in gear more often, especially if it was going to start getting cold, and even more so if she was going to be entertaining people like Philip on the side walk while she waited.

"You do what you have to do," Andrea said.

She wasn't on duty right now. She wasn't a waitress and she wasn't getting tipped for this conversation. She didn't have to be any sunnier than she wanted to be and right now she smelled like fried food and wanted to go home.

"Have a drink with me?" Philip asked. "My treat. You seem like you could use a little relaxation."

He smiled at her. It was the kind of smile that was very nice and very charming. It was the kind of smile that she'd normally be drawn to like a moth to a flame. The only thing was, though, was that there was something about him that just didn't set well with her. It was the kind of feeling that made her feel awkward just standing on the sidewalk with him while no one was around. It made her feel like things just couldn't go well for you if you were dumb enough to let him get you alone, or even more alone than she was at the moment.

Andrea nerviously lit another cigarette, trying to will her hands from shaking from the slight nervous feeling that she got from the man. Something about that smile of his made her almost want to throw up.

"I'm good," Andrea said. "Waiting on someone."

Philip nodded.

"Fine," he said, "then have dinner with me. You name the night. We'll go wherever you want. It doesn't have to be Korean. It doesn't even have to be in town."

Andrea eyed him. She would have scoffed at the absurdity that a man she didn't even know beyond her interactions with him at the Watering Hole wanted to have dinner with her, but she'd met Merle at the bar as well. That was, essentially, the place that had also begun the relationship with Daryl and Carol. The thought fleeted across Andrea's mind that maybe it wasn't a great idea to find your romantic interests at a place that had a higher cockroach population than probably all of New York City, but she quickly pulled her attention back to the man that was still smiling at her, having moved a little closer on the sidewalk.

Andrea shook her head.

"I can't," she said. "I'm kind of involved with someone."

Philip nodded his head a little.

"You're not wearing a ring," he said with a chuckle.

"Do you give rings to everyone you get involved with?" Andrea asked, raising an eyebrow. She glanced around again cursing Merle under her breath for his tardiness.

Philip smiled.

"I don't, but if she was worth it, I would," he responded. "You're sure I couldn't talk you into a drink or anything?"

Andrea shook her head.

"No, I'm good. My ride's going to be here any minute. It's the man I'm involved with," she added, hoping the mention of a man might make Philip dart back into whatever shadows he'd emerged from. "He's a bit of the jealous type too…" she threw in.

The truth was Andrea had no idea if Merle was the jealous type or not. She'd never really seen him in a situation to find out. She suspected he might have it somewhere inside him to be that way, but it would require him, for once and for all, admitting that he gave a damn and that would be a hard step for Merle Dixon to make.

Philip smiled again and shrugged.

"Well, I tried," he said. "I hate to see you standing out here all alone." He glanced around the parking lot. "It doesn't look like whoever you're involved with minds it so much though."

Philip turned and stepped off the sidewalk into the parking lot. He burrowed around in his pocket and came up with his keys. He held them in his hand, looking at them for a moment as though he'd never seen them before.

"I'm sure I'll see you around, Andrea," Philip said. "Maybe later we can get that dinner or that drink."

He walked off without waiting for a reply and Andrea watched as he walked along the edge of the parking lot and circled around the back of the building. He must have parked on the street on the other side.

A shudder ran through Andrea and she almost yelped when she finally saw Merle rolling into the parking lot in her car. She jogged out to meet him and crawled into the passenger seat as quickly as she could. She wanted to be mad at him for being late, but at the moment she was too relieved to be buckling herself into the car.

"What's wrong with ya sugah?" Merle drawled. "Look like ya done seen a damn ghost or somethin'."

Andrea realized she didn't know how to answer Merle's question. Any answer she gave was going to sound ridiculous and be considered, more than likely, one of those woman things that drove Merle insane. Really what could she say? A man who comes to town on business and drinks at the bar had dinner at the Korean restaurant and I thought it was strange? Most anyone who was going to have drinks at the bar was going to land at the Watering Hole, and there were so few places to eat in town that seeing someone's face over and over really shouldn't be strange. What should technically be strange was if you didn't see them over and over. She couldn't tell him that some man had smiled at her and asked her for to join him for dinner or a drink some time…that didn't sound like a very good reason to be trying to calm her breathing now either. Men asked her out a good bit, and they asked nearly every other single woman out a good bit. It was Sweet Junction. Pickings were slim and her reputation preceded her.

"Nothing," she said finally. "It was nothing."

Merle chuckled at her and drove them back to the apartment, both of them maintaining silence on the ride.

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Andrea ordered pizza and they ate as soon as it got there. Merle jumped in the shower before Andrea was done eating, since she preferred to think of a meal as something she should taste, while he ate his like someone would rip it right out of his hand if he didn't finish it before they got the chance, and he came back into the living, dropping on the couch and switching on the television just as she was putting the leftover pizza in a Ziploc bag.

They hadn't talked much since the ride home, and she still hadn't processed what she wanted to say to him. She had a thousand thoughts pinballing through her mind but she knew better than to approach Merle with any of them without thinking them through first.

Andrea stepped into the shower, leaving Merle to watch whatever was entertaining him. She scrubbed the watermelon shampoo through her hair, the image of Philip's creepy smile behind her eyelids every time she closed them.

Why was it always the creeps that came to Sweet Junction and latched on to her? She'd had more than her fair share of creepers come crawling out of the Watering Hole over the years and it drove her crazy. Sometimes she wondered if all the guys she thought were creeps were, sincerely, creepy or if she'd just begun to assume they were and she was projecting the image onto them. She supposed either could be a realistic explanation.

She hadn't thought Merle was creepy. He was too straightforward, albeit smarmy as hell, to be creepy. It was the ones that were nice to her that usually came across as creepy. Andrea lathered the loofa and scrubbed, wishing that the thing was like sandpaper and could take off a few layers of skin. It might make her feel a little cleaner if that were possible.

She wasn't used to men being nice to her. That was something that she just didn't have a lot of practice with. The only time men were nice to her was when they wanted something, and usually the niceness was only going to be short lived. She'd come to expect it and therefore distrusted their friendliness. They usually just wanted sex…in the back of their cars, in the back of her car, someone's house if they were really feeling friendly, but at the end of it all they were going to pull of their mask of kindness and let her see what they were really like. She didn't trust their kindness anymore, not at all.

That wasn't to say that she didn't believe there were good men out there, or that some men were just genuinely nice. She thought that Daryl was one of those men that was genuinely nice, and when he wasn't listening to his asshole brother he was able to remain that way for the sake of Carol. Tyreese seemed genuinely nice the time or two that she'd met him with Michonne. There were nice men out there, but they weren't the kind of men that ended up with Andrea.

By the time Andrea got out of the shower she'd talked herself down from being freaked out by Philip. He was probably a nice guy who was new to town. He didn't know Andrea and he didn't know her reputation. He'd seen her a few times at the Watering Hole, thought she was something more than she was, and then he'd coincidentally ended up eating at the Korean restaurant. That was it. Since she was a familiar face and he was new in town, he thought he'd chat with her a bit. He'd asked her out. That wasn't a crime, after all, was it? She'd just overreacted.

Andrea dried off quickly and was squeezing the water out of her hair when she came out the bathroom and walked around the living room. Merle was still watching television.

Merle turned and looked at her, a smirk covering his face.

"Weelll," he drawled out. "Look like somebody wants a taste a Merle for dessert," he said. He sat up a little on the couch.

Andrea sighed. She wasn't really against having sex at the moment, and she was already naked, but she was in a bit of a mood after the evening's events.

"Can I ask you something, Merle?" Andrea asked.

Merle pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the side of the couch where she'd have to collect everything up later.

"Come on over here, sugah an' ya can ask me whatever the fuck ya want," Merle said.

Andrea stepped over to the couch and tossed the damp towel she was holding over the back of it, sitting down in front of Merle who had sat up from his earlier lounging position. Merle's hands immediately went to her breasts. She closed her eyes a moment, but then pulled herself back together. She reached and caught his wrists.

"Hold on a second, OK?" She asked.

"Fuck ya want?" Merle asked, his eyes piercing into her. She knew he wasn't a fan of conversations, and he certainly wasn't a fan of conversations that delayed or interrupted sex altogether, but she wanted to talk about this.

"How would you feel if some man asked me out?" She asked.

Merle chuckled. He leaned past where she was still holding his wrists and caught her nipple in his mouth, biting down on it hard enough to make her cry out.

At first when she'd let Merle in on the secret that she liked sex almost as much as he did, but that many times she liked it a lot rougher than he apparently thought she would or even should, he'd seemed almost a little put off by it. He didn't seem to care for the things she asked him to do and he seemed to really not understand that unless she used the word "blueberry" then nothing was off limits and a little bit of pain was a good thing. He'd adjusted to it, though, with time, and now he used it against her, knowing that as soon as he went straight to biting she was almost as distracted as he was.

Andrea shifted around and put her feet against his chest, still holding his wrists and pushed him back enough that he couldn't reach her nipples any more.

Merle frowned at her, but he didn't fight his position. He looked at her more like he was trying to figure out what his next move was instead of like he was genuinely annoyed by the fact that she was holding him in this position and trying to have some kind of a conversation with him.

"I don't give a fuck if some asshole asked ya out," Merle said finally. "Fuckers ask ya out all tha damn time down there at tha bar an' if I was gonna get my damn pecker caught in my zipper every fuckin' time it happened I reckon we wouldn't be tangled up like this right now."

Andrea nodded a little.

"What if I said I'd go out with him?" Andrea asked, raising her eyebrow up. Merle tried to move to bite at her leg and she pushed back harder with her feet.

"Ya got some asshole ya lookin' at, sugah?" Merle asked. "Some fuck ya'd rather have?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Didn't say that," she said. "Asked what the fuck ya'd think if I said that I did."

Merle yanked his wrists loose from her hands then and sat back.

"Reckon ya can decide who tha fuck ya go out with," Merle said. "I ain't got no damn chains 'round ya fuckin' neck. Go fuck tha whole damn town if ya wanna."

His change in voice let Andrea knew that his shackles were raised. Andrea crawled across the couch then, almost sitting in his lap. She ran her hands over his chest and kissed his jaw, nibbling at the skin there. It was enough to send a chill through him and bring him back around to her for a moment. Merle reached around and Andrea felt him tugging at her hair. She nipped him in response.

"Didn't say I wanted to fuck anybody else, Merle," she said. "I just want you to tell me if you'd give a shit if I did."

Merle yanked her hair back and his tongue traced up her throat and snaked around to her ear where he bit down on her earlobe a moment before bringing his tong back down its path. He pushed over onto the couch and got up, shedding himself from his shorts and boxers and standing over her a minute.

"If ya so damn stupid that ya'd wanna fuck any damn body else when ya got me here, then I reckon I'd have ta let'cha dumb ass do what tha hell ya was gonna do," he said.

As soon as Merle's hands caught Andrea around the waist and flipped her, she knew that the conversation was over. He was on top of her and inside her before she could even form another thought, already working out his frustration of the day. She scrambled a little, catching the back of the couch to dig her fingers into it and changing the angle on him. One of his hands went around her throat while the other pinched and pulled at her most sensitive areas, reducing her a hoarsely screaming puddle by the time she came and he followed after, falling against her a moment later.

She panted against the back of the couch, swallowing hard and trying to regain herself. Merle bit the back of her shoulder a moment, his tongue trailing over the bite afterwards.

"Don't go fuckin' other people, Andrea," Merle said. "Yer a fuckin' freak an' they might not like it much as ole Merle does. Once ya find a fuck that's good for ya, ya best ta stick with it."

Merle stood up and slapped her ass as she shifted around to crawl off the couch. He walked to the refrigerator and came out with a soda, cracking open the can and standing there drinking it while he looked at her and absentmindedly scratched his ass cheek. Andrea slid down and rested her head on the arm of the sofa a moment, watching him.

"But you would care if I did," she said.

Merle took another swig of the drink and regarded her watching him from the couch. He chuckled a little.

"Ya tryin' ta start this feelin' shit an' I fuckin' told ya it ain't gonna happen," Merle said. "Ya know which side ya fuckin' bread is buttered on but I ain't 'bout ta drool all over ya like ya some bitch in heat. I ain't some kinda pussy."

Andrea nodded her head and sat up. She got up then, sure that her knees weren't going to betray her and walked over to him. She leaned up, kissing him, their tongues locked in battle for a moment, his mouth cool and sweet from the soda.

"I don't want you to be a pussy," Andrea said when she pulled away. "Just because you can admit that you know what you like doesn't make you less of a man. It just makes you someone who's found something they think they'd like to hold onto and doesn't want to see someone else take it away just because they're not afraid to admit they'd like to take it out for a test drive."

Merle chuckled at her.

"Not much of a damn test drive," he growled. "Far as I heard 'round these parts ya don't make it outta parkin' lots too damn often, darlin'."

Andrea nodded her head a little, forcing a little of a smile onto her face.

"Don't believe everything you hear in Sweet Junction," she said. She headed toward the bedroom, leaving him in the kitchen to finish his soda in the warm afterglow.


	73. Chapter 73

**AN: I hope you're enjoying your day. Here's a little reading material for you and I'm slowly making my rounds. I've got a few "neglected" fics that need to be updated soon, but I'll be around to this one again as soon as possible. (Plus this one has a tendency to be my stress relief when I'm not in the mood for anything else.)**

**Your responses about Andrea and Merle were interesting. We'll find more out about Philip as we go and indeed, Merle needs to get his act together post haste! **

**I hope you enjoy, let me know what you think! **

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Daryl woke up to the sound of his normal alarm now and lie in bed a moment, stretching and rubbing at his eyes. It was Sunday, and theoretically it was the day that he could sleep in as late as he wanted. The sound of Carol retching, though, made him feel guilty to still be lying in the bed with the covers pulled up around him. He sat up and stretched once more before throwing his legs over the side of the bed and getting up. He found his boxers hanging on the post at the head of the bed where he'd thrown them the night before to keep Lincoln from engaging in some act of fine dining while he slept. He stepped into them and shuffled into the bathroom.

Carol was in her customary morning position, her legs bunched under her, holding her hair back with one hand while she rested her head and the other arm on the seat of the toilet. Lincoln was running circles around her, occasionally trying to climb up her sides or back.

"Still pukin' or just gaggin'?" Daryl asked. Carol gagged as a response and he chewed at a loose piece of skin at his cuticle, leaning against the doorframe. "Want me ta make ya some toast?"

"Nooo," Carol responded, not lifting her head or looking at him. He nodded a little to himself. "Lincoln needs to go out," she said. Daryl snickered.

"Come on ya lil' fucker, let her ride the porcelain bus in private," Daryl called. He started out of the bathroom and whistled. That was all it took and Daryl reasoned the dog probably had to piss about as bad as he did. He stepped to the door and opened it, letting Lincoln out and leaving it so the dog could come in when he was ready. Daryl went to the hall bathroom and relieved himself, washing his hands with the flower soaps that he'd made peace with. Now it was becoming interesting to him to see how long one of them could hold out before they stopped looking like some kind of flower and started looking like a blob of nothingness.

He made his way back toward the kitchen, hearing Lincoln already running laps around it in expectation of his treat. Daryl pulled the door shut and went into the kitchen flipping on the coffee pot and digging around in Lincoln's treat jar for one of the bones. He laughed.

"Ya 'bout ta lose ya fuckin' mind, ain't'cha?" He asked the dog. He thought that with a little patience they could probably teach the dog to do some kind of circus dance when he was hyper like this. Daryl sniffed the milkbone. "Fuck they put in this shit? Fuckin' dog crack?"

Daryl glanced around, and satisfied that he was alone with Lincoln he nibbled the edge off the dog treat. He chewed the tiny piece he had and handed the dog the rest of the treat.

"Don't taste bad," he said, shrugging. "Don't see why ya so fuckin' excited about it, but it don't taste like shit or nothin'."

Lincoln wasn't listening to him, though. He'd already gone to his bed with the bone. Daryl got the loaf of bread and put two pieces into the toaster. She might not eat them right away, but she'd get around to it eventually. He stretched and then went for his coffee mug. He knew by now that the coffee was really only waking him up because he decided it would. Carol told him that they were drinking decaffeinated coffee now because apparently that's all she could process or something like that. Daryl didn't really care. He put enough coffee and cream into his that he didn't think it tasted any different if it was supposed to and he wasn't going to try and make her process shit that she couldn't when she already spent more than a few hours a day with her head in the toilet.

Daryl checked the clock and shuffled back through the house. Carol was sitting back on her ass now in the floor, her head leaned back on the back of the tub.

Daryl watched her for a minute. Over the past few mornings he'd really been trying to figure out how to fine tune this into some kind of routine. He liked routines…and if she was going to barf every day until that kid decided to come out, he might as well shape it into something of a routine. So far, in just a few days, he'd learned about what time she'd go from actively staring into the toilet into wallowing around on the floor.

Daryl reached over Carol and yanked the washrag out of the tub. He ran it under water in the sink and handed it to her. She took it without saying anything, but he didn't care. The first time he did he thought she should say thanks, but just the act of choking out the word sent her back to gagging, so now he didn't insist she say anything if she wasn't ready to.

"Toast prob'ly done popped out by now an' coffee's gonna be ready soon," Daryl said. Carol put the rag over her face and nodded in response. "I'm makin' cereal for breakfast today so ya ain't gotta cook."

Carol nodded again.

"Ya comin' up or ya stayin' down there for a bit?" Daryl asked.

"I'm good for a minute," Carol said. She pulled the rag off her face and slung it backwards into the tub, looking at him.

"I tasted one a' Lincoln's treats," Daryl said, fumbling with a few of the items that cluttered the sink area.

"You did what?" Carol asked, chuckling.

"I tasted one a' his treats," Daryl said. "Ya ever tasted one?"

"No," Carol said.

Daryl shrugged.

"Ain't too bad, really. Kinda tastes like a graham cracker or somethin'. As much as ya like crackers ya could put some peanut butter on 'em an' I betcha'd like 'em," Daryl said.

Carol sat up and stretched an arm in Daryl's direction. He moved and helped her up.

"I'll stick to toast, thanks," Carol said.

"Suit yaself," Daryl said. He left her to finish whatever she needed to do and went back to the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal. He was almost done eating it when she came through, buttoning up one of the long sleeve red and white checked shirts they'd started wearing with their jeans at Lula's. "Fuck ya doin'?" He asked.

Carol poured herself some coffee and got a piece of toast out of the toaster before joining him at the table.

"Getting ready," she said.

"I thought ya might go back ta sleep," Daryl said. Carol hadn't gotten home until around two and he knew she'd been up since at least five or so.

"I'll go to bed early," Carol said. "It's Sunday. I work at Lula's."

Daryl crinkled his nose up and watched her pecking at her dry toast. He was trying to go back over her schedule in his head, but he couldn't remember what day she'd had off of work this week.

"Ya off tomorrow?" He asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Michonne's," she said around the bite of toast.

Daryl shrugged finally. Carol was better at keeping up with her schedule than he was. He liked the fact that it was pretty much always the same thing at Hershel's. He got there early, he worked all day, he left. Sundays he was off unless something special was up. He could ask for other days off if he needed them, but for the most part he didn't need much to disrupt his schedule. Carol's, like Andrea's, was much more confusing and he figured that they had to be pretty damn smart to keep up with it all.

Now, though, Daryl wasn't sure what he was doing with his Sunday. He'd intended to spend the day with Carol, but if she was working at Lula's then she wouldn't be home until almost supper time.

"Ya gonna make supper or ya wanna order somethin'?" Daryl asked.

"I can make something," Carol said. "There's stuff in the freezer." She got up and carried her napkin and coffee cup back into the kitchen.

"Ya want me ta do somethin' while ya gone?" Daryl asked. "I ain't got no plans."

Carol smiled at him and shook her head.

"Merle's probably going to be over here later," Carol said. "Why don't you help him with his bike? Keep him company."

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Daryl and he leaned down to kiss her. Her mouth tasted like minty coffee.

"I guess I'll see ya when ya get off work, then," Daryl said. Carol smiled at him and he walked her to the door. She slipped out before Lincoln could take an interest and make a break for it through the carport and Daryl decided he'd go get dressed and wait for Merle.

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Apparently it was hiring season at the mill and the plant nearby because Carol waited on at least four new people who were checking out the area before two. The new customers coupled with the normal diner crowd for Sunday at Lula's kept her and Jacqui both hopping around most of the time.

Carol smiled, though, when she recognized an old new face among the diners. She walked up to the table.

"Hey there," she said, putting down the silverware. She caught the man off guard and he jumped a little before he smiled at her.

"Hey yourself," he said with a smile.

"I hadn't seen you around," Carol said. "I just assumed you'd chosen another town nearby."

"No ma'am…well not exactly," Axel responded. "I been lookin' and right now I'm stayin' in some of the little rent houses they got out by the mill, but I'm finally narrowing it down to a couple of neighborhoods I like."

"Did you look at the one here?" Carol asked.

Axel nodded.

"I did," he said. "It's a little steeper than I was hoping to go, but it's pretty much the nicest one so it's right up there in my top ten. Plus, I just can't help but like the ambience." He smiled at her. "I like the diner too, and the staff sure don't make it a bad deal for a Sunday dinner."

Carol smiled.

"Do you know what you want to eat?" She asked.

"I don't know if you serve it," Axel said.

"I told you, we can fix almost anything you can dream up. Try me," she said.

"I want chicken fried steak and corn on the cob," Axel said.

Carol laughed.

"Lula's just happens to be quite good at chicken fried everything," she said. "And I'm sure the corn won't be any problem. You're in luck too, if you want some we have some really great biscuits that should be fresh out the oven by the time your dinner's ready."

"Now you don't have to go twistin' my arm like that," Axel said.

"To drink?" Carol asked.

"Tea," Axel said. Carol nodded at him and started toward the back to put his order in. She took his drink, chatting with him a moment longer about the places he'd looked at so far, and what he might do to kill the afternoon, and then she went to find Jacqui behind the counter, surveying the diner to make sure no one was low on ketchup or was considering ordering anything for dessert.

"You seem friendly with him," Jacqui said with a smile.

"He's new to town," Carol said, "and he's nice. I might as well be friendly."

"I think you also like how flirty he is," Jacqui said. She wiggled her eyebrows at Carol.

"Hush!" Carol said. "He's not flirty. We were talking about neighborhoods, for crying out loud."

"You don't have to flirt with words, Carol. You can flirt with looks too," Jacqui said. "It doesn't matter, though, if he's nice he's nice. There are a lot of newbies floating around today."

Carol nodded.

"They must be on some kind of big hiring spree," Carol responded. She heard the bell ding for food and she went, picking up the plate and carrying it over. She lingered a moment, making sure there was nothing that Axel needed or nothing that wasn't to his satisfaction. When he asked for butter she smiled. "Sorry," she said, "don't know how I could have missed that one."

She turned quickly to head back toward the kitchen and when she did, she felt her head spin. She reached out to grab at the side of the booth, but she was never sure if her hand made contact or not.

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Michonne got Celine out of her carseat and bumped the doors shut with her hip. Tyreese had Anjelica already out and reached in getting the bag of groceries she brought with her to make dinner. He followed her up to the house.

"Looks like a family reunion," she said, stepping into the kitchen.

Merle and Daryl were sitting at the table, Carol was lying on the couch, and Andrea sat on the floor near the couch playing with Lincoln.

"What are you doing here?" Carol groaned.

"Good to see you too," Michonne said, putting the groceries on the counter and passing into the living room to hover over Carol while Tyreese brought Anjelica over to play with the dog.

"Who called you?" Carol asked.

Michonne shook her head.

"Doesn't really matter, does it? Point is that I'm here to see your beautiful face," Michonne said. "And I'm glad I brought enough food to cook for everyone."

"I turn around too quickly and everyone is camping in my house now?" Carol asked.

"Be glad that you have friends who care about you," Michonne said. She looked at Andrea who was half smiling at her from the floor.

"She knocked the shit out of her head," Andrea said. "Jacqui thought she might have a concussion and she fell on her hand, ripped two of her fingernails back. I bandaged those."

Michonne sucked her teeth.

"Did you really not want to work today, is that it?" Michonne asked. She'd gotten the call from a frantic Daryl that Carol had passed out at work and he had to go pick her up with Merle who was going to drive her truck back and bring Andrea. She didn't know what had happened except for the fact that she was being sent home. No one knew she was pregnant, and they still didn't really want to tell anyone, so they certainly had no intention of keeping her at work if she was going to be blacking out on them.

"She didn't tell you about her genius plan?" Andrea asked.

Michonne raised her eyebrows at Andrea and Carol moaned.

"Oh yeah," Andrea said. "She's put herself down to work for you five days a week. Then she's working at Lula's two days a week and the Watering Hole three nights a week. On top of that she's squeezing in the classes with me by shuffling things around when she can."

Michonne looked at Carol.

"Is she serious?" Michonne asked. She glanced around but apparently the men were entertaining themselves with something in the dining room, having decided that the women could take care of their own. Michonne passed Celine to Andrea and sat down on the edge of the couch. "Carol you can't do that…no one can do that. That's why there are hour limits on work weeks."

Carol sighed. Michonne took her hand and tried to look at the fingers, but Andrea had done a pretty decent job of bandaging them. She couldn't see where Carol had hit her head, so she assumed it must be the back of her head. Michonne frowned.

"I've got to work as much as I can before the baby gets here," Carol protested.

Michonne raised her eyebrows.

"You've got to take it easy some too or there won't be a baby," Michonne said. "You can't work like that and I refuse to contribute to it. Now I can easily see about raising your salary at the office if you need more money, but you're going to have to cut down. One night at the Watering Hole is more than enough and one day at Lula's if you're determined to do it. Less than that would be ideal."

Carol rolled her eyes at her.

"Well at least you're feeling good enough to act like a teenager," Michonne said. "And guess what?"

"What?" Carol asked.

"You're going to a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Don't worry, though, it's during your hours at the office and it just happens to be a paid vacation," Michonne said. She smiled at Carol. "If you won't listen to any of us you'll listen to your doctor."

"And it just so happens that I've got some free time tomorrow," Andrea said. "I don't go in to work at the Korean place tomorrow so I'm free until the evening."

"Well look at that," Michonne said, winking at Andrea. "You've got an escort. Isn't that lucky?"

"You're a bitch," Carol said with a snicker.

"I am," Michonne said, sighing. "I haven't grown out of it yet, though, so I don't expect it's going to pass anytime soon."

Carol sighed and nodded her head a little, bringing her hand up to squeeze at her temples.

"How do you feel? For real?" Michonne asked.

"My head's throbbing," Carol said.

"Wouldn't take anything," Andrea responded quickly. Michonne glanced at her and noticed that she was holding Celine as though she were some sort of alien life form that might melt her skin. The girl didn't mind, though. The thing about Celine was that she liked to be held, period, and she'd take it any way she could get it. Anjelica was more the mover and the shaker and it appeared that right now she was getting acquainted with Lincoln's toys on his bed. At least the dog seemed to think it was great that she brought him a fellow short little creature instead of thinking she was a threat. Michonne shuddered, though, when Anjelica put one of the toys in her mouth.

"Ty, can you stop Angie from eating dog toys, please?" She asked. She turned her attention back to Carol. "I'm going to get you something for your head. Then I'm going to make dinner. You'll eat, get some rest, and then tomorrow you'll come into work for a light day until your appointment. Just to make sure everything's fine. After that, the work schedule is changing, and I'll talk to my dad about your paycheck. He has a tendency to listen to his darling baby girl," Michonne said with a wink.

"You don't have to do all this," Carol protested.

"Nope, I don't," Michonne said. "But I want to and you can ask Tyreese how hard it is to get me not to do something I want to do. Isn't that right, Ty?" Michonne called at Tyreese who was playing with both the child and the dog now.

"What?" He asked. Michonne knew he was ignoring everything.

"Isn't it hard to make me not do something once I've made up my mind about it?" She asked.

Tyreese chuckled.

"Pretty d-a-m-n impossible," Tyreese said.

Michonne smiled.

"So you hang tight and we'll get you something," Michonne said. She stood up and took the baby from Andrea who was looking more than a little uncomfortable with her ward. Michonne crossed into the dining room and handed the girl to Daryl who looked at her with wide eyes. "Here, start practicing," she said. Daryl didn't protest, and she figured that soon enough he'd get the hang of it. At least he was starting out with an easy kid.

Michonne went to the bathroom after finding out where the medicine was located and brought Carol back something for her headache. Then she started making dinner, digging through drawers and cabinets to figure out where everything was. Andrea came some time later to help her.

"Carol will be devastated if something's wrong," Andrea whispered as they worked.

Michonne smiled at her.

"Nothing's wrong, I blacked out in the middle of hearing…twice," Michonne said. "She'll be fine, but she does need to take it easy."

"Do you think she's going to listen to you?" Andrea asked. "She didn't seem receptive to me."

Michonne snickered.

"Look around you, Andrea," Michonne said. "This is a lot of people to try to ignore…she's going to listen. Daryl was worried enough when he called me that I think I could convince him to duct tape her to a chair if she tried to overdo it again."

Michonne was pretty positive that Carol couldn't help but take their advice. Everything would be fine and one way or another she'd make sure that the baby had what it needed, even if she had to play secret Santa or something like that. She knew that's the only reason that Carol would be insisting on going through with the insanity that she had planned.

"Come on," Michonne said to Andrea, "let's get this dinner done so everyone can eat and Carol and Daryl can get some rest. I have a feeling both of them could use it."


	74. Chapter 74

**AN: OK, here's a little something. It's been a long day here so I'm pretty tired. I'm going to try to get something else out tonight (for something), but I don't know what and I don't know if I'm willing to promise that. LOL**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol pulled her truck up in the driveway behind Daryl's. He was home from work early, no doubt concerned when he had no reason to be. He was working with Merle on his bike, though, so it wasn't a total waste. The sooner they got that bike done the sooner Carol didn't have to look at it any longer, she could try to get the oil and grease stains out of the concrete, and Merle wouldn't feel that he had a permanent invitation to show up and hang out for as long as he wanted, whenever he wanted, after work.

Carol got out of the truck and waited on Andrea to walk up from getting out of her car. Andrea had driven her to the doctor's office, come back with her under the excuse of morbid curiosity, and then drove her back to Michonne's to get her car. Now, apparently, her goal was to wait at the house until she had to leave for work which was evidenced by the bundle of work clothes tucked under her arm. Carol had been given the rest of the day off and surprisingly discovered that Michonne intended to work from home the next day and wouldn't need her to work in the office but also hadn't left her enough time to get on the schedule to work at any of the other places.

Andrea flipped her shades up on top of her head as she reached Carol and the two of them walked toward the carport where Daryl and Merle were tinkering with the bike while the battery operated radio Merle brought with him played some mixture of static and what sounded like it was theoretically country music. The antenna off the radio was broken, though, so nothing came through loud and clear. Lincoln bayed at the entire scene.

"What'd the doctor say?" Daryl asked as soon as Andrea and Carol walked up, headed in the direction of the house.

"It's fine," Carol said, opening the door.

"Hey sweetcheeks, why don't'cha fix me up somethin' ta drink?" Merle called out.

"Why don't you fix me something, Merle? I've got to wait on assholes later, I don't feel like getting started now," Andrea responded.

She and Carol both pushed into the house. Daryl left his tools on the ground where he was working and followed after them.

"Hey!" Daryl said as he came into the kitchen. "What'd the doctor say?"

"I told you," Carol said. "It's fine, everything's fine."

Daryl made a face at her.

"Don't seem fine ta me when ya go blackin' out and bangin' ya head on shit. I seen what'cha damn hand looks like too. Now what'd he say?" Daryl asked. He turned his attention to Andrea then who was fixing herself a glass of iced tea.

"He said it's fine," Andrea said. "Betty Crocker here just needs to indulge in a few more naps and a few less hours while she bakes your kid, that's all. Make sure she eats, even if she doesn't always want to, and some relaxation wouldn't hurt…you know back rubs and foot rubs. The works."

Andrea returned the tea pitcher to the fridge after filling her glass and burrowed around in the shelves looking for something she wanted to eat. Daryl looked at her a moment as though he expected her to say more, but finally she smiled at him and ducked her head again, indicating that she was done speaking.

Carol laughed at the whole situation. That hadn't been exactly what the doctor had said, but apparently it was Andrea's interpretation of it all. Carol had gotten more of the everything's fine but take care of yourself part of the speech. Daryl looked worried, though, and she hated seeing that look on his face and knowing that he had taken off work, which he would make up in the evenings on other days no doubt, just to come and check on her. Carol walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"It's OK," she said. "Promise. Everything's just fine. And sneaky Michonne has given me the day off tomorrow."

Daryl looked a little relieved.

"Ya oughta have the day off," he said. "Tryin' ta work more than I am an' not even tell me."

Carol could hear a little scolding in his voice. He wasn't exactly mad at her, and they'd talked about it, but now she knew that he was bothered by the fact that she didn't tell him her plan. He felt like if anyone was trying to work more hours it was supposed to be him, but she didn't want him to do that. She knew, realistically, that they were going to be fine financially. She knew that she was driven, more than anything, to work so that she'd know she had done everything she could possibly to do to prepare for this baby and to make sure that they could offer it everything that it needed. Though Daryl listened to her when she told him this, she didn't think he could really understand that it was something she just felt driven to do. She didn't want to run into problems down the road and feel like she'd let the baby down by not preparing like she should.

"You work plenty," Carol said. She puckered her lips at Daryl and he gave her his best pouting look before he finally smiled and leaned in to kiss her. He wanted to pretend he was mad at her, she'd already figured that out. He seemed to think that he could raise his eyebrow at her enough and she'd behave, just like when they used a certain tone of voice with Lincoln to get him to stop pulling at the ruffle around the bottom of the couch.

"Ya gonna take it easy?" He asked. She felt him wrap his arms around her and she could tell by the shifting of his hands that she was about to be tickled if she didn't respond the way that he wanted.

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the fact that she predicted his plan and nodded.

"Oh my God," Andrea said, drawing both of their attention. She was standing, still in front of the refrigerator door, eating leftover string beans out of a Tupperware container with her finger. "You two are going to make me barf. Just stop."

Carol laughed and Daryl chuckled a little at her more than at Andrea.

"I promise," Carol said, leaning up to kiss Daryl again before pulling away from him. "I'm going to take it easy. Andrea and I are going to look at some of our class stuff before she has to leave for work."

"Yeah," Andrea said, "so why don't you go help Merle with that rolling death trap?"

Daryl shook his head and started out the door, leaving Andrea and Carol in the kitchen alone.

"You know we have forks," Carol said.

Andrea shook her head.

"Nah…if I eat with a fork then it counts. If I eat it like this it's like I never really at it. It's like a free sample," Andrea said. She put the lid back on the string beans and put them in the fridge, coming back out a second later with a piece of roast that carol had bagged up in there.

"Done grazing?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Shut up," Andrea said with a snicker. "Your food is better than my food. I have to eat as much as I can while I'm here. Plus I don't have to hear Merle's mouth about how much I eat if he's not around."

Carol started toward the dining room table so that she drag out the books for their classes to look over them with Andrea.

"You should get pregnant," she teased. "I could eat twenty four hours a day and other than crack a joke about it Daryl won't really say anything."

"Merle's comments are theoretically jokes too," Andrea said.

"But you don't think they're funny?" Carol asked.

Andrea walked over, wiping her fingers on the bottom of her shirt. She sat down, dragging one of the books to her that Carol put on the table.

"I don't know," Andrea said. "I guess that it would be different it wasn't always about jokes…and teasing…I just wish that sometimes there was some of that lovey dovey shit."

Carol sat down.

"I thought you didn't like lovey dovey?" She asked, raising her eyebrow at Andrea.

Andrea shook her head.

"I don't…or at least not all of the time. Everyone wants something, though. I don't know if you realize it but Merle isn't exactly romantic at all. The most romantic thing he's said to me in weeks was 'ya got a real nice ass, sweetcheeks,'" Andrea responded.

Carol chuckled.

"At least he's complimenting your ass," Carol said. "It could be worse."

Andrea shrugged.

"It could be," Andrea said. "But it could be better, too."

"There's always that," Carol said. "I guess I can't complain. Daryl compliments me almost too often."

Andrea made a face and pantomimed playing a violin. Carol laughed at her.

"I'm not complaining, I'm just saying," Carol said.

"Well Merle is right in that you did get the sweet one of the Dixon boys," Andrea said. "And right now you're making a human being and shit, Daryl's impressed."

Carol laughed.

"Maybe he is a little bit," she admitted. "I do know, though, that I don't want to be one of those couples where everything is always about the baby." She paused. "I mean, everything is about the baby right now, but I mean I don't want that to be all there is."

"Is that a problem?" Andrea asked.

"No," Caorl said, shaking her head, "but I can see how people fall into that. I just don't want that to happen. I mean I want it to be Daryl and I…and we have a baby…do you see what I'm trying to say?"

"You don't want to just be a lifeless, emotionless, brainless human incubator?" Andrea asked.

Carol chuckled.

"Exactly!" She said. "I don't think it's going to happen, but I just don't want it to happen."

Andrea shook her head.

"Not going to happen. I think if anything you're more like Wonder Woman or something to Daryl right now. You can't leap tall buildings or fly and shit but you make some arms and a fucking pair of lungs or something while most people are trying to figure out how to get the pour spout open on the orange juice," Andrea responded. "Besides, y'all are quickly shaping into that nauseating married couple that the two of you love so damn much."

"Except we're not married," Carol said.

"Are y'all gonna get married? I mean have you even talked about it?" Andrea asked.

Carol shook her head. She fiddled with the pages on the book that she was supposed to be looking at, but hadn't even paid any attention thus far.

"He hasn't asked me," she said. She paused, absentmindedly bending the corners of the page. "I'm not sure if I want him to ask me…"

"You mean you don't want to marry him?" Andrea asked, incredulous. "You're kind of having his kid…"

Carol chuckled and shook her head.

"It isn't like that," she said. "I mean we're…well…we're finally happy, you know? Everything is starting to go really well. I just got divorced and I don't even have to tell you how well my last marriage went. I guess I kind of like the idea of knowing that we're doing this and we're not doing it because we feel like we have to. It's stupid…let's just study."

Andrea smiled and reached her hand across the table to Carol, squeezing the hand she was using to fold the corners of her book into something akin to origami designs.

"It's not stupid," Andrea said. "We all feel the way we do about things. I don't know if I'd want to marry anyone. It's something about the whole concept of the thing."

"Not even Merle?" Carol asked with a chuckle, turning her hand over and squeezing Andrea's in response.

"Especially not Merle," Andrea said. "But I think you and Daryl will eventually get married…and if you don't, then you don't. You are giving the baby his name, though, right?"

"We hadn't really talked about it," Carol said. "I mean…I guess he would want the baby to have his name."

"You should talk about it," Andrea said. "I'm sure he wants the baby to have his name." She pulled her hand back and shifted around in her chair as if to say that she was really going to start doing something about the work they were supposed to be doing with the books in front of them. "Although," she said after a moment, "that might remind him that he hasn't asked you to marry him."

Carol felt her stomach churn.

"I think it can wait," she said. "We don't have to talk about it right now. It's not like we're naming the baby tomorrow or anything."

Andrea nodded.

"No, you don't have to make that decision right now, and you don't have to do anything that you don't want to do," she said. "You two do this your way, at your own speed."

"People are going to start talking when I start showing, though," Carol said. "You know how this town is."

"Yeah," Andrea said. "I know exactly how this town is. Let them talk if they want to talk. They'll find something to chat about anyway."

"You're probably right," Carol said.

"I know I'm right," Andrea said. "Besides, if you want me to I can always create a diversion and give them something to really talk about. I'd do that for you."

Carol laughed.

"You would? You'd do that for me?" Carol asked.

Andrea nodded.

"I would…I would do that," she said.

Carol couldn't help but laugh. She could only imagine what sort of "diversion" Andrea might create to draw attention to the fact that she was pregnant and unwed so soon after the entire Ed fiasco, but she could imagine that Andrea would do it well. The woman had very few qualms about shaking up the gossip chain of Sweet Junction.

Daryl and Merle passed into the house a few minutes later, some conversation about the motorcycle, Carol presumed, trailing in the door after them.

"How's it going, boys?" She asked, turning around slightly in her chair and embarrassed to admit that she and Andrea had done little so far beyond arrange and rearrange materials.

"Gotta order some parts," Daryl said. "Thing'll run, but it ain't gonna run for long if'n things don't get replaced."

"Ya didn't make me no tea," Merle called out.

"Told you to get it yourself, Merle," Andrea said, pretending to be focusing very intently on the book that she'd just begun to look at.

Merle grumbled something and fumbled around fixing himself a drink. Daryl walked over to the table and looked over Carol's shoulder at the book in front of her for a moment, trailing his finger over where she had bent the book corners up.

"Looks like ya workin' real hard," he teased. Carol tipped her head back so she could see him.

"First I'm working too hard and then I'm not working hard enough," she teased back at him. "You men just can't be happy with anything."

Daryl reached behind her and squeezed her shoulders, keeping the squeezing up a little as she leaned forward to give him better access. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his fingers kneading her shoulders and back.

"I told Merle 'bout ya baby book an' how the baby looks like some kinda bug right now," Daryl said. "Weren't the best idea I ever had."

Merle chuckled and walked over, leaning on the table.

"Told Daryl it figures he'd make a young'un looks like a roach," Merle said. "'Bout pretty enough ta say it looks like its ole man."

"It doesn't look like a roach," Carol mumbled. She really could care less about Merle's goading. She knew that his entire goal was to get a rise out of her, and it wasn't until Daryl started kneading her shoulders that she realized she had very little energy with which to give him the rise he was seeking.

"They all look like bugs in the beginning," Andrea said, pretending to still be highly focused on her book. "It's only yours that would keep looking like that."

Daryl chuckled at that.

"Wouldn't that make it your kid too?" He asked Andrea, without letting up on his massage.

"Not my kid," Andrea said. "Guess it belongs to whatever woman'd be crazy enough to let Merle knock her up."

Merle snorted.

"Gotta 'em waitin' in line, sugah," Merle said. Andrea nodded her head in response without looking up. "Ya makin' me somethin' ta eat 'fore ya go to the bar or ya gonna make me starve?" Merle asked after a few minutes.

"Why don't you pull someone outta line to make you something?" Andrea asked.

She closed the book though, and started to get up from the table.

"Are you leaving?" Carol asked, raising her eyebrow. She figured that since Andrea bothered to bring her work clothes with her she'd just be going directly from their house.

Andrea nodded a little.

"I'm not going to get anything done right now," Andrea said. "So I guess I'm going to run back home for a bit. Fix some dinner. Take care of the big kid here."

"Big kid my ass," Merle growled. "If ya a good girl ole Merle'll take care a ya before ya gotta go ta work. Then ya won't be missin' me all night long while ya waitin' on all them assholes."

Andrea shook her head and rolled her eyes in Carol's direction, smiling.

"Right, Merle…there's only one asshole for me to wait on," Andrea said.

"Get'cha asses outta here," Daryl said. "I ain't wantin' ta hear shit 'bout neither of ya takin' care a' nothin'!"

Merle and Andrea both started toward the door then and Carol got up following after them with Daryl. When they got to the door, Merle slipped out without saying much to anyone and headed down the driveway. Carol thanked Andrea for taking her and then held the door open for her to step out. Once they were on their way, Carol turned around and stepped back into the kitchen.

"Ya look tired," Daryl said.

"I am," Carol said, "at least a little."

Daryl smiled and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and pretending like he was going to squeeze her harder than he actually was. She wrapped her arms around him in response and put her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart pound.

"What'cha say we go lay down?" Daryl asked.

"You're sleepy too?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed.

"Not too sleepy," he said, "but I might give ya one a' them massages an' then…ya know…if ya weren't too tired ya might could maybe do somethin' for me?"

Carol couldn't control the chuckle that bubbled up inside her chest. She pulled away from him.

"Are you inviting yourself to a little early evening sex, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"No," Daryl said, shaking his head. He grinned after a second. "I'm offerin' ta trade for it."

"Mmmm," Carol said, pretending to think about it harder than she was. "You have me convinced, but on one condition…"

"What?" Daryl asked.

"We order delivery first," Carol said. "That way I don't have to worry about where dinner's coming from when we get hungry later."

Daryl grinned.

"I'll get the phone book," he said.


	75. Chapter 75

**AN: A little more from our friends in Sweet Junction for you. As always, I thank you for your support and interest in the story, even if I don't get to tell you individually how much it means to me. **

**Delivery with Daryl would be fun, you're all right about that! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"How are things, son?" Hershel asked, finding Daryl down near the pastures stringing some hay out for the cows.

Daryl turned a little at the approach of the old man. He straightened up and turned to face him, leaning back against the fence and ignoring the momentary push of one of the cows' faces against his back.

Hershel had been kind enough to let him take most of the day off work the day before because he worried about Carol going to the doctor. He didn't know if something was wrong or not and he was having a hard time focusing on even the most menial of his tasks that morning. He didn't want anything to be wrong with her or with the baby, but he felt like something was going to go wrong. He was too content, and whenever he got content he got nervous. Things didn't work out for him the way he wanted them too…they never had…so it was hard not to be jumpy and not to worry about when and how the shoe was going to fall.

"They OK," Daryl said.

Hershel frowned at him a little.

"Something on your mind, Daryl?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head a little. There was a lot on his mind. In fact he wondered if anyone in the history of the world had ever been asked if something was on their mind and had been able to honestly answer no.

"The doc said things are fine," Daryl said. He ran his hand along the rough board of the fence and one of the cows, the same one that had head butted him a little moments before, came to greet him.

"You don't sound so convinced," Hershel said. He moved beside Daryl then, resting his forearm on the board and rubbing a little at the nose of the over curious cow who wanted to have some input in the conversation.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"Ain't nothin'," he said. "I just reckon that I don't feel like it's gonna be alright. Ain't got no reason ta feel that way, but I just feel like somethin's gonna go wrong. Carol's home today an' she's s'posed ta be takin' it easy an' all, but I just keep gettin' this feelin'…'bout makes me wanna puke."

Hershel looked at him a moment, the line between his eyebrows growing deeper. He turned around then, putting both his forearms on the fence and looking out over the cows that were grazing around.

"I think what you're feeling, son, is probably just the daddy jitters," Hershel said.

Daryl turned to match Hershel's stance, leaning against the fence.

"What's that?" He asked.

Hershel smiled.

"I don't know if it even exists…at least not really. You see, son, when a woman's expecting everyone makes a right big deal of it, and if they don't they should. And everyone you talk to tells you about everything that women are going through. All their nerves and their crazy moments…the changes…it's all a big deal. They even write books about it," Hershel said.

Daryl nodded a little, chuckling.

"Carol's got a book. Got pictures an' everythin' in it. Damn kid looks like a bug right now," Daryl said.

Hershel chuckled a little and nodded.

"What they don't write books about, though, are the daddy jitters," Hershel said. "It doesn't mean they aren't there, though. You're not going through the same changes and experiences she's having, but you've got your very own set of things that are happening…it's just that they only happen to you and no one's really paying any attention to them."

Daryl thought about it. He didn't really know if he was going through anything like what Carol was going through. He wasn't trying to grow some baby and he didn't spend several hours every morning praying to the porcelain god of the bathroom or have random fits of wanting to part company with everything he put in his mouth.

He certainly hadn't blacked out like she had at work. He was just waiting for something to happen and trying to figure out how to handle it when it finally did happen. He didn't know that the two were comparable at all.

"Let me guess," Hershel said. "You're worried about what you're going to do when the baby gets here…how you're going to take care of it. You're worried about what kind of father you'll be…if you can take care of both of them?"

Daryl bit at his cuticle. He nodded.

"Yeah…that's part a' it, I reckon," Daryl said. "I just keep thinkin' somethin's gonna happen. Like somethin' bad's gonna happen. I don't know what it is, though…I'm just waitin'."

"Mmmm," Hershel hummed. "That's another situation…though I think they're related. Same family of illness."

"Don't feel sick," Daryl said.

Hershel chuckled.

"I use illness loosely, son. Are you happy, Daryl?" Hershel asked.

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I reckon I'm 'bout as happy as I ever been."

"There you have it, then," Hershel said. "As human beings we're often afraid of that which makes us the happiest. You feel like the happier you get, the more imminent the possibility that you'll lose that happiness."

Daryl nodded.

"That's it," he said.

Hershel turned and clapped Daryl on the shoulder.

"That's just a natural response letting you know that what you've got is something that you really don't want to lose. It doesn't really mean that some dark cloud is hovering over your head, it's just your brain…or your heart…or whatever creates the feeling, letting you know that this is something that would cause you a good deal of pain to lose," Hershel said. "Recognize it for what it is, and for what it's telling you, but don't dwell on it. If you do, you'll spend the rest of your life ruining your own happiness simply by being afraid that you won't have it any longer."

"So you don't think nothin's gonna happen?" Daryl asked.

"There's always that possibility, Daryl, but worry won't change anything and it'll just take away whatever happiness you've got while it's there," Hershel said.

Daryl wanted to not worry. He really did want to take the old man's advice on this, but it didn't stop him from having the feeling. It was almost the feeling that if he could, he'd wrap Carol up in bubble wrap and newspaper and put her in his pocket where he could take her with him everywhere he went and make sure that nothing happened. He wasn't sure that he could stop anything from happening, at least not exactly, but he felt like he had a better chance of keeping control of everything if he could have done that.

"Talked to Jo," Hershel said.

Daryl snapped out of his thought for a moment and turned his focus back to the old man.

"She wants you and Carol to come over Sunday to dinner, if that's alright with you," Hershel said.

Daryl had already talked to Carol about her schedule and what she should and shouldn't do, so he knew that she wouldn't be working on Sunday. She was allowed to work at Michonne's during the week, Lula's on Saturday, and the Watering Hole on Friday and Saturday night, but he'd made her give up one night at the Watering Hole and he'd made her give up Sunday's at Lula's. At least this way he knew she got one day a week off to just take it easy…even if he knew she was really just going to spend most of that day cleaning house and things like that.

"That'll be fine," Daryl said. He'd never done Sunday dinner with Hershel and Miss Jo and it almost seemed a little daunting. "We need ta do somethin'?" He asked.

Hershel smiled and shook his head.

"Just show up," Hershel said. "We'll eat at about two."

Daryl nodded. He got a little concerned.

"Could ya tell Miss Jo that if Carol gets sick an' throws her food up not ta take it personal? Sometimes she just throws up between 'bout four and eight in the mornin'…and then maybe after she eats breakfast…but then sometimes she gets a mind ta keep right on goin' for most a' the day." Daryl said. "I don't want Miss Jo thinkin' it's got nothin' ta do with her cookin'."

Hershel shook his head.

"Jo won't think it's her cooking," Hershel said. "No worries. When Jo was pregnant…most every time…they called it morning sickness, but that was pretty much the biggest lie I ever heard. I thought Jo would never quit throwing up."

Daryl curled his lip.

"When did she?" He asked. He was starting to wonder how long their morning routine would last. "Carol says she's like eight weeks or nine weeks…I lost count."

Hershel nodded a little, obviously thinking back. He shrugged a little.

"I don't remember exactly," Hershel said. "I guess she was on into her fourth month or so…I remember she was just starting to look a little pregnant because I the very first time I kept worrying that she'd never actually look pregnant because she'd never keep any food down to grow."

Hershel laughed at himself.

"I almost worried myself sick the first time Jo was pregnant just over the fact that I didn't think she was growing right. After the first time, though, I knew more what to expect. We all have to learn what's what," Hershel finished.

"Carol don't look pregnant," Daryl said. "She figures she'll start lookin' like it when she's 'bout six months…that's what she said."

"Well I haven't really seen her since Lula's that day, but Carol Ann's always been a little bitty thing," Hershel said. "I'm sure you'll be able to tell at six months…but I imagine you'll have a pretty good idea long before that."

"Reckon we gotta wait an' see," Daryl said.

"That you do, son," Hershel said. "Be sure and tell her about Sunday though, you hear?"

Daryl nodded.

"I will, she'll like that I bet," Daryl said.

"I'm heading up to the house for a bit, but if you need something, you just let me know," Hershel said.

Daryl nodded at him and watched as the old man crossed the field headed toward the farmhouse. Daryl turned and went back to what he'd been doing when Hershel had found him. He hoped Carol would be excited about the dinner plans he'd made for them.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 1

It was a fairly busy Saturday night at the Watering Hole and Carol felt like neither she nor Andrea had much more than a minute here or there to even sit down. With the influx of people in town from the hiring that had taken place at the mill nearby, the bar was hopping more than it usually was. The regular thirsty patrons had showed up and they were holding down their normal tables, but tonight even the bar area was filled and Carol didn't know half the people in there.

She felt pretty good, though, and she was actually getting a kick out of most of the drunken people that normally would have annoyed her. Their antics seemed funnier, for whatever reason, and she wasn't minding so much the mingling being done from table to table. Of course, since Mary Ann had gone back to work, it was nice getting back to just her and Andrea working most nights.

Carol stepped into the back, dumping one of the trays of glasses into the sink and starting washing them quickly, flipping them upside down on the towels that Andrea had already laid out on the counter space back there. They were going through some dishes and Loretta had never exactly stocked the bar for a crowd.

Andrea came up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder and leaning in like she had some big secret to tell her and as though the loud mouths outside could hear anything over their own drunken musings.

"He's here," Andrea said.

Carol turned around a little to see Andrea somewhat wide eyed and a little more fidgety than she normally was.

"Who?" Carol asked.

"The man…the guy I was telling you about. Philip, he's here," Andrea said.

Carol left the dishes in the sink and turned around. She plucked the towel off of Andrea's shoulder and dried her hands quickly.

"Where's he at?" Carol asked.

"Same place he always is," Andrea said. "Booth to the left near the door. His friend isn't with him tonight."

Carol nodded a little and put the towel back over Andrea's shoulder with a smile.

"You finish the glasses. I'll get him this time," Carol said.

Andrea had been telling Carol about this man, and Carol had seen him in there once or twice, but she hadn't paid him any attention. Andrea's accounts of the man were a little confusing. She said he was charming, but smarmy…which for Carol made her think of Merle. Andrea, however, had assured Carol that he was nothing like Merle. Apparently he'd shown up at the Korean restaurant as well, and Andrea said he just gave her some kind of bad vibe that she wasn't entirely able to explain.

Carol stepped out of the back and stopped a moment to refill a shot glass for a man she didn't know who held up a piece of folding money to signal that he wished for one more drink and he was out. She took the money, thanked him for the leftover which would be her tip when she rung him out, and started toward the booth where the man sat.

As she approached, the man sat back in the booth a little. He was, perhaps, overdressed for the Watering Hole. Most of the people there were working men…blue collar working men…and this man looked a little more like white collar considering he was wearing slacks and a button down shirt, and his shirt didn't display his name over the chest.

He smiled a broad smile at her as she approached and folded his hands on the table.

"Well hello," he said. "Philip Blake."

"Carol," Carol responded with a smile. She'd dropped her name so often at the bar tonight that she was beginning to feel like she needed it sewn on her shirt. "What can I get you?"

Philip looked at her like he was considering the question with very careful thought.

"Scotch," he said, "on the rocks. Better make it double."

Carol nodded a little and went straight to the bar area, pouring his drink. In her very brief meeting of the man she'd seen nothing that seemed out of order. She shot a glance toward Andrea who was tending tables and trying with a noticeable effort to keep her back to the man. Apparently something about the man did have Andrea genuinely spooked and it seemed troubling to Carol since Andrea wasn't exactly someone that spooked easily.

Carol took the drink back and sat it on the table in front of the man.

"Thank you," he said. "Busy night tonight?" He asked, looking around.

Now the fun began. At the Watering Hole, and Carol assumed it was the same in any small bar, part of your job was serving drinks, part of your job was cleaning up, but the biggest part of your job was customer entertainment. No one liked to drink alone. The more entertained a customer was, the longer they stayed and the more they drank. The more they drank, in turn, typically meant the more they tipped since drunks were notoriously more generous than sober people, especially if you'd entertained throughout their drunken state.

Carol leaned a little on the table.

"Pretty busy," she said. "They're hiring at the mill and it's brought in a bunch of out of towners. Apparently it happens at least twice a year. Should die down in a couple of days, though…then in a couple of weeks the new faces just become old ones."

Philip smiled.

"Isn't that the way it always works? Every face is a new face until it's an old one," he said.

Carol nodded a little.

"I guess that's true," she said.

"How's your hand?" Philip asked. Carol was confused for a moment and then she glanced at the hand that rested on the bar. She wasn't entirely sure how she'd done it, but when she'd passed out at Lula's she'd ripped her nails off. The week of healing had almost taken care of the problem, but she still had two small bandages there.

"I just messed up the nails," she said. "It's nothing serious."

Philip hadn't been the first customer to ask about the bandages. Things like that apparently got people's attention very easily.

"Everything fine, though?" Philip asked. "I was…" he chuckled a little, "I was having dinner at that nice little diner in town when you got hurt. It looked like you just blacked out."

Carol felt her stomach turn a little at the coincidence. She shook it out of her head and smiled though, when she saw Philip's face change and realize that she must have made some expression that she hadn't intended to make.

"It's all fine," Carol said. "Just one of those things…low blood sugar."

Philip nodded, his expression serious for the moment. Then he smiled.

"At least it was nothing serious, right?" He said. "I saw all the commotion. It was a good thing they were able to get ahold of your husband."

Carol smiled and nodded. She didn't know if he hadn't realized she wasn't wearing a ring or if he thought that she just didn't go for that sort of thing, but she didn't feel the need to correct Andrea's mystery man on her relationship status with Daryl.

"He's attentive," she said, hoping to dismiss the conversation soon. She glanced around but Andrea still had her back to her.

Philip smiled.

"Well that's good," he said. "Every good woman deserves an attentive and caring husband."

Carol nodded.

"Can I get you anything else?" She asked quickly, looking for her way out.

Philip took a sip from his drink and thoughtfully held the glass up while looking at her. She felt her stomach churn again and realized that Andrea had probably gotten into her head and convinced her that something was wrong with the man. After Andrea's concern she'd probably be uncomfortable with him if he were the Pope. Still, she felt like he was checking her out, looking her up and down, and it wasn't with the same general nature of the other bar goers that were blatantly looking at her tits or considering groping her ass.

"I think I'm fine," Philip said.

Carol forced another smile out.

"Good," she said. "You just let me know if you need anything else."

Philip tipped his head, moving his hand almost like he was toasting her.

"Will do," he said.

Carol excused herself from the table then and almost double timed it back toward the back of the bar. She stopped a moment, glancing at Andrea who was pretending to have some great interest in a pool game that she could probably care less about, and took a few orders from some of the new mill workers sitting around the bar and chain smoking over shots of tequila. When Carol finally caught Andrea's attention she jerked her head back slightly to indicate she was stepping to the back and then she left. Andrea came a few minutes later.

"Well?" Andrea asked.

"I don't know," Carol said. "He did seem a little creepy, but I feel like I only thought he was creepy because you told me he was. I didn't feel like he had bodies in his basement or anything."

Andrea stomped her foot a little.

"Shit!" She said. "I wish you could have met him without knowing anything about him. Then you could give me an unbiased opinion.

"Sorry," Carol said, shrugging a little. "He did mention that he was at Lula's on Sunday when I blacked out," she offered. "I thought that was a little creepy at first…but then again half the men in here probably passed through Lula's on Sunday. It's a busy day and if you don't have anyone cooking Sunday dinner it's about as good as it gets."

"Yeah," Andrea said. "That's not much to go on. At least fifteen people have asked _me_ about how you are and what happened at Lula's. It's the stuff of legends right now."

"I'm sorry," Carol said. "I'm sure if you think he's creepy, though, he really is. Like I said, I thought he was maybe a little creepy, but I just don't want to swear to it. I don't know if I just decided he was without giving him a fair trial. If anything, though, stay away from him if he makes you uncomfortable."

"It's not me staying away from him I'm worried about," Andrea said. She looked at Carol and her eyes darted back and forth.

"You think he's like dangerous?" Carol asked, leaning in a bit. "Like stalker dangerous? Or like put you in his trunk dangerous?"

Andrea shrugged.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know if I really even think he's dangerous. I don't think he's murdering people with hacksaws, but something just makes me think…I don't know…something about him feels like he can't be trusted."

Carol nodded her head.

"You don't have to explain it," Carol said. "Women's intuition, right? If you don't think he can be trusted, then we don't trust him, simple enough. Did you drive tonight?"

Andrea shook her head.

"Then I'll drive you home. No big deal," Carol said.

Andrea smiled and wrapped her hand around Carol's forearm.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm just being silly. I don't feel like he's going to do anything, honestly. It's not that kind of feeling. It's just…" She paused.

"Something about him doesn't set well?" Carol asked.

Andrea grimaced a little.

"That's pretty much it," she said.

Carol smiled and shrugged.

"That's fine," Carol said. "If it doesn't set well then it doesn't set well. We'll keep an eye on him. I'll wait on him the rest of the night and see if I can't figure him out. We'll be like detectives or something."

Andrea chuckled.

"Too bad Michonne doesn't work here, I bet she'd have him pegged in half a second," Andrea said.

"That's true," Carol said. "But no worries, we've got this. We just know to keep our eyes open for one Mr. Philip Blake who may or may not be creepy and up to something."

Andrea giggled.

"God we sound like teenagers…" She said.

Carol giggled in response to Andrea, glad the mood was lighter.

"Come on…" Carol said. "We've got work to do. The drunks will be raiding the bar soon if we don't get out there."

Andrea nodded and started out front again. Carol stepped over to the counter and loaded a tray up with a few of the clean glasses to put out front. She stepped out after Andrea to finish up their Saturday night's worth of work and to keep an eye on the new man in town.


	76. Chapter 76

**AN: Here's a little something. I know…I know…I'm a sucker for fluffy/feely things. I can't help it. It's how I'm built. I hope you can survive it. LOL **

**We get to meet Miss Jo a little here. :-) We all know Hershel, so we might as well meet the woman who stole his heart, right? **

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Carol was halfway around the front of the truck when Daryl got out and shut his door. She could tell in his demeanor that something was wrong. He had a more rigid way of walking when something was wrong, and he'd been tense all morning.

"Daryl!" Carol called as he started like he'd walk right past her toward the farmhouse. He stopped and turned but didn't say anything. He really didn't have to. The facial expression said it all. "Come here," Carol said.

Daryl sighed a little and walked over, his walk almost painfully stiff from whatever it was that was bothering him. Carol met him and quickly took his hands in hers, leaning against him.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothin'," Daryl said. Carol made a face.

"Before we go in there, Daryl, tell me what's wrong," she said.

Daryl bit at his lip.

"I shoulda opened the door for ya, an' I didn't," Daryl said. Carol chuckled.

"Do you want me to get back in the truck so you can open the door?" Carol asked, trying not to laugh. He made a face and his eyebrows knitted together.

"No," he said. "But I shoulda done it an' ya can bet they seen that I didn't."

Carol leaned in a little more toward Daryl.

"Daryl, it's OK. Listen, no one is judging you, OK? This is just dinner, that's all. It's supposed to be a nice dinner," Carol said.

Daryl looked down at her still not wholly convinced obviously. He'd been worried about one thing or another all morning until Carol was beginning to wonder if dinner was even a good idea.

"Just a nice dinner, Daryl," Carol said. "No one is judging you," she repeated. "Can I have a kiss?"

Daryl smiled at her and leaned down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms tighter around him.

"I'm going to have to turn the hose on you two," Hershel said.

They both jumped, breaking away, and Carol felt her cheeks immediately flood with heat. Hershel was standing, leaning against the side of the house, smiling at them. He chuckled when they both looked in his direction, red faced.

"Jo said dinner's almost ready," Hershel said. "You can come inside whenever you're ready."

Carol reached over and took Daryl's hand, tugging him with her toward the house. They made their way through the door, following after Hershel.

As soon as they got inside, Carol almost felt herself being thrust toward the kitchen where Jo was preparing dinner. The old woman smiled at Carol as soon as she saw her and stopped what she was doing to step forward and hug her. When she pulled away she held Carol's forearms a moment, holding her at arm's length, and smiled at her.

"Carol Ann! You look wonderful. It's been so long since I've seen you," Jo said. Carol couldn't help but smile back at the woman. Her hair was white with streaks of the faded chestnut it had once been and her eyes were a shimmering blue.

"You look beautiful, Miss Jo," Carol said, "and it has been a while."

"When Hershel told me you were seeing Daryl I thought there couldn't be a better thing," Jo said. "He's such a sweet boy, and you've always been a sweet girl…I didn't think either of you could have found anyone better."

Carol smiled.

"He is sweet, you're right," she said. She looked around. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Jo shook her head.

"Heavens no," Jo said. "Beth is setting the table and Maggie's already started carrying the food in. You can keep me company while I wait on the biscuits to finish if you want."

Carol nodded.

Jo stepped to the oven and opened the door, gazing inside for a minute. Carol stood a little awkwardly to the side, feeling like she should be doing something. Maggie passed in, nodding her head in greeting, and swept back out again.

Carol knew Hershel and Jo's children by name, but she didn't know any of them hardly beyond that. She knew the two girls were the only two that lived at home now, but that didn't really constitute as any wealth of information.

"Hershel told me about your little one," Jo said, closing the oven and turning around to face Carol again. Carol felt her stomach clench. She wasn't used to talking about the baby. Right now it was something that only their closest friends new about and she hadn't really been prepared for Jo to talk about it, even though she knew that the Greene family was aware of their situation. "Congratulations," Jo said. "You're already glowing, so I can tell it's a joyous event."

Carol nodded her head a little, worried that she was blushing or something to show that she wasn't used to the idea of talking about it.

"Thank you," she said.

"I didn't embarrass you, did I?" Jo asked, her face growing concerned.

Carol felt her cheeks go red again and suddenly she was feeling a little warmer in the space than she wanted to feel. She shook her head.

"No…it's fine," she said. "We just aren't…we just haven't started telling people really. We're not talking about it yet."

Jo frowned at her a little.

"Well why aren't you talking about it? If you don't mind my asking," Jo said.

Carol shook her head a little.

"It's just early…" she said. "We're waiting at least three more weeks…just to be sure. We don't want to talk about it too early."

The smile returned to Jo's face.

"Oh hogwash and old wives' tales," Jo said. She chuckled. "You can talk about your baby any time you want to with anyone you want to, sweetheart."

Carol considered, for a moment, stepping on her own toe or something to distract herself. She had absolutely no reason to feel like she was feeling at the moment, but she could feel some kind of emotion bubbling up in her and she was a little afraid that it was going to get out without her wanting it to. She tried to smile and shook her head a little.

"We just don't want to talk about it…in case something happens…" Carol said.

Jo walked over and put her arm around Carol's shoulder.

"Carol Ann, things are going to happen the way they're supposed to happen. Talking about it won't make anything happen. I didn't mean to upset you, though, and I can see you're flushed. Would you like to step outside? Get some air?" Jo asked.

Carol couldn't bring herself to really say anything else, so she just nodded. Jo let go of her shoulder and Carol started back through the house and out the door they'd come in, not even looking around her. She tried to walk slowly, but as she got just outside the door she almost broke into a run. She realized that she was going to be sick and she really didn't want that to happen, but it was all she could do to hold her hand over her mouth and run for the side of the house.

Daryl came out a few minutes later while Carol was leaning with her hands on the side of the house, throwing up in the bushes.

"Ya alright?" Daryl asked. "They got a bathroom ya know?"

Carol turned to face Daryl a little, thankful for the fact that it was cool outside. She just shook her head and turned before another wave of nausea swept over her.

Daryl walked over then and started rubbing her back.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out between waves of the feeling. Daryl chuckled a little.

"Nothin' ta be sorry 'bout," he said. "If ya don't wanta stay I'm sure we can take a rain check…I mean eventually the kid's comin' out an' ya ain't gonna be sick no more."

Carol turned around and leaned against the house.

"Better?" Daryl asked.

Carol leaned there a few minutes, just breathing and wishing it was colder than it was.

"I think…it was too hot in the kitchen," Carol said, finally. "And Miss Jo started talking about the baby…and God it was so hot in there."

Daryl smiled and pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket, offering it to Carol. She took it and wiped her mouth.

"I mean it, ya know," Daryl said. "If ya don't wanta stay we don't gotta."

Carol shook her head.

"No," she said. "I think I'm fine. I hope it's not that hot in the dining room."

"I didn't think it was too bad," Daryl said, "but then again I ain't got no kid in my guts."

Carol put the handkerchief back over her mouth and shook her head.

"Don't say guts, Daryl," she said. Daryl chuckled.

"Ya got it," he said. "Ain't gon' say it again. Ya wanta just stand out here a minute? Get good an' cooled off?"

Carol nodded. Daryl stood there a minute, biting at his nail.

"Be right back," he said. He disappeared inside and Carol slumped against the wall again willing herself to feel better. It wasn't polite to come to someone's house for dinner and spend the day throwing up in their bushes. She was pretty sure that was a big no no in etiquette, even if she hadn't bothered ever studying the stuff.

When Daryl reappeared he had two washrags.

"Miss Jo soaked 'em down in ice water," Daryl said, holding them out to her. "Said get'cha neck an' all real good an' wet with 'em an' ya gonna feel better."

Carol smiled and took them, putting one on her neck and awkwardly swiping at her face with the other. She couldn't help but moan and Daryl chuckled again.

"Ya keep that up an' I'ma put'cha on ice when we get home ta see what happens," Daryl said.

After a few minutes, Carol felt like she could hold herself together. She went back inside with Daryl and returned the rags to Miss Jo, thanking her and apologizing at the same time. Jo wrapped Carol's hand in hers.

"Honey, if there's one thing I can say it's that I've thrown up in every bush on this property," Jo said, covering her mouth a little with one of her hands and laughing. "I think it helps 'em grow better."

Carol shook her head.

"I don't think I'm going to get used to it," Carol said. Jo chuckled.

"By the time you've done this three or four times, you won't even hardly stop what you're doing to get sick. You just keep on going," Jo said. "Are you going to be alright? I don't mind sitting out on the porch with you while they eat, and then we can join them later."

"No," Carol said, "I think I'll be fine."

Jo frowned at her.

"If you're worried about me, honey, don't be. I eat the whole time I'm cooking. I could almost skip every meal and never lose an ounce," Jo said. "You sure you're OK? We're having fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy…"

Carol felt her stomach seizing a little. Jo smiled and rubbed her back.

"You wait right here. I'm going to tell them we'll see them after dinner and get us some nice lemonade. The tart'll help your stomach some," Jo said.

When Carol had been sitting for a bit on the back porch with Jo, side by side in rocking chairs, she was feeling better, but still not at all sorry that she wasn't inside the warm farm house eating. Jo didn't seem to mind either. She sat, gazing out over the porch with her lemonade in her hand.

"I'm so sorry," Carol said finally. "I know this wasn't how this was supposed to go."

Jo shook her head.

"It's Sunday dinner," Jo said. "It's supposed to go however it goes. That's the beautiful thing about it. Don't you go being sorry and don't you go fussing at that little one either."

Carol smiled.

"I can usually hold it together after lunchtime," Carol said.

"Well then here's your first lesson as a Mama," Jo said. She turned to Carol and smiled. "However much acting up your child'll do when it's just you around, expect them to be at least three times worse when you're around company." Jo leaned back again. She laughed after a minute. "Just wait 'til the little one's here and one of your friends wants to hold it wearing some nice outfit or another and your precious little baby decides to give them a little something to remember them by."

Carol laughed.

"I can't get that far in my head," Carol said. "I haven't really seemed to get anywhere yet."

"It'll happen," Jo said. "Then you won't be able to stop. By the time I was eight months into the ordeal the first time, I already had my baby…and back then I didn't know if it was a boy or a girl so I had to prepare for both…married with babies of its own."

Carol smiled.

"Miss Jo," Carol asked, "did you ever…" She paused and continued rocking a little, worried now about overstepping some boundaries.

"Did I what, sweetheart?" Jo asked.

"I don't know if I should ask this," Carol said. Jo turned her head back toward her and regarded her for a moment. Carol thought, for just a second, Jo looked much younger than she was. Jo smiled.

"Long as you're not about to ask me about my dress size," Jo said, "then I suppose you can ask what you want."

"I was going to ask if you ever…lost a child," Carol asked.

Jo leaned back in her rocking chair a little and gazed back at the yard.

"I did," Jo responded. She shook her head a little. "I don't know many women who didn't…not when they'd admit it. Back when I lost mine, though, we just didn't talk about those things. People acted like it was taboo or something. Like it was something you were supposed to be ashamed of."

"So you didn't think it was?" Carol asked.

Jo shook her head again.

"No, I didn't think it was. I thought it was heartbreaking, but not something to be ashamed of. I feel like if a wanted child is lost…well, it's a tragedy…whether it's been born or not. A mother should never feel like she's got to hide her child," Jo said. "I'm not ashamed of mine."

Carol nodded her head in understanding.

"Were you scared the next time you were pregnant?" Carol asked. Jo chuckled again.

"I was scared every time," Jo said. "I guess I figured it was a natural response to being a mother. You're scared from the moment you even know they exist…and it never stops. You'll be scared for your child as long as you live, or as long as they live, and hopefully you'll outlive them."

Carol sat there silently a few minutes more, enjoying the breeze as it blew against her face. She could hear, ever so softly, the sound of laughter and chatter going on inside. She wondered for a moment what it would be like to be in Jo's place and know that the sound she could hear was her family, enjoying their Sunday dinner, laughing and talking around the table. She sighed a little, not meaning for it to be as audible as it came out.

"That Daryl's a good man," Jo said. Carol woke a little from the daydream she'd allowed herself to slip into.

"He is," Carol said.

"A little rough around the edges," Jo said, "but he'll smooth out, at least most of the way."

Carol giggled.

"Was Hershel rough around the edges?" Carol asked. She couldn't help her smile from spreading just at the thought.

"Lord, yes!" Jo said. "I still haven't gotten all the rough edges taken care of. Don't supposed I ever will. Still, you love them…and that means you love their edges too."

Carol nodded a little to herself. She did love Daryl, and she loved the fact that he was the way he was. Even when there were times that she wanted to choke him for not understanding something she was trying to explain to him or for being hardheaded and doing something in what was completely the wrong way, she still loved him.

"Daryl will be a good daddy," Jo said. "Good men make good daddies."

"I think he will be," Carol said. "I think he'll be a real good daddy."

Carol did think Daryl was going to be a good father. She knew that he was going to need time to adjust, and she was going to have to be patient with him, but he was already fascinated with the baby. She hadn't even begun to show yet and already he was fascinated with touching her stomach. She couldn't even imagine what he was going to be like the first time he heard the heartbeat or saw some kind of proof beyond the pictures that she kept on the fridge and he thought were secretly blank. She felt like the first time he had some concrete proof of the whole thing he was going to go almost out of his mind. She hoped he held onto that excitement, though, and that Merle stayed away from him enough to keep from dampening that at all for him and for her.

After a while, Hershel and Daryl joined them on the porch. Maggie had excused herself, apparently, to go and meet her boyfriend, but Beth, the youngest of the Greene's came out to sit for a bit too.

"How are you feeling, Carol Ann?" Hershel asked, taking a seat nearby.

"Much better, thank you," Carol said.

"We've been out here enjoying girl talk," Jo said with a smile. "How was your meal? Everything satisfactory."

Hershel hummed a little like he was thinking.

"Well, I wasn't too sure about the biscuits," he said. Jo frowned.

"Did I overcook them?" She asked. Hershel looked concerned.

"Well," he said, "I wasn't sure, so I decided to try some of them with cane syrup for dessert. I think they were alright, though." He chuckled and Jo scoffed at him.

"Had me worried that I was serving bad biscuits to guests!" Jo scolded. Daryl laughed at them and Carol watched him watching the two old people.

"They was real good," Daryl offered. "Carol's gon' be sore she ain't had none."

"Well, I'll pack her a doggy bag to eat when she wants it," Jo said. "And don't you worry, Daryl, I'll pack you one too in case you get peckish later."

Daryl grinned in response.

"So when are y'all getting' married?" Beth asked. "I mean if you're having a baby, surely you must be at least getting married?"

Carol shot a look toward Daryl and then at the floor, her blood freezing up a little. Daryl shifted a little uncomfortably where he was seated as well. They hadn't talked about marriage at all, and this wasn't exactly the place that Carol wanted to have the discussion.

"Bethany…" Hershel warned. Carol was relieved at the look he was giving his youngest daughter. Just from the look on the girl's face she looked as though she'd been burned by the single word, and Carol wondered if she and Daryl would ever have the ability to stop this child from doing anything just by saying its name with that tone. Right now she couldn't even get it not to make her sick, and that was using all of her mind to will it into submission.

"Sorry, Daddy," Beth said softly.

Carol considered saying it was OK and trying to smoothe things over, but she knew if she did that it would necessitate the conversation and she wanted to leave that one dead and buried for as long as possible.

Carol was relieved when Jo changed the direction of the conversation a few moments later by starting to talk about pies and how she had made some pumpkin pies and she was sending one home with them.

"We'll have more pumpkins coming off the vines soon," Jo said. "It's too early for them to sell well at the market, so we have to do something with them. Hershel said Daryl mentioned something about carving pumpkins with you."

Carol smiled. She'd told Daryl that it was something she'd love to do. She hadn't done it since she was a little girl and she'd like the autumn feel of pumpkins around.

"I'm hoping we can," Carol said.

"I'll give you some when we get some nice ones off the vines," Jo said. "The ugly ones are fine for eating, and I'll send you some of those too, but the pretty ones are the ones you want to decorate with. Don't carve them, though. Paint them. They'll keep longer that way and you can enjoy them more."

"I'd like that," Carol said. "I might have to steal your pumpkin pie recipe. I don't have one. Mama never was much for anything pumpkin, but I love it."

"I'll be more than happy to share it with you," Jo said. "Do you, by chance, have your Mama's recipe for fig preserves? The one she used to make for the fair each year?"

Carol nodded.

"I've never made it, but I do have it," Carol said.

"I'd like to get that," Jo said. "Your Mama always did the best with figs."

Carol grinned.

"It's a trade, then," she said.

Hershel chuckled.

"See there, Daryl? This is what happens when you let women alone too long. They start swapping out recipes and talking about food even when you've got a full belly," Hershel said. Daryl smiled.

"I reckon I don't mind none if they wanta talk about food," Daryl said. "I'm even willin' ta try it out for 'em while they practicin'."

"You're a dedicated man, son," Hershel said with a laugh.


	77. Chapter 77

**AN: Happy Saturday everyone. Here's a little more for you. It's a pajama day today, so I'm sort of making the rounds updating fics. I might get back around to this one today, or it might be a bit. **

**I'm glad to see you all enjoyed my fluff. This one's a little fluffy and it's got a little character development that will have to do with more coming up in the future. **

**I hope you enjoy and, as always, let me know what you think! **

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Carol was lying in bed, naked, and she couldn't concentrate on what was supposed to be taking place. She was only half aware of the fact that Daryl was trying to problem solve like a champ at the moment. He'd gone so far as to get up and put Lincoln on the floor, noisily sliding his stairs away from the bed so that he couldn't join them.

The part of her mind that was focused on what was taking place enjoyed the feelings of his mouth searching her out, sucking and pulling at her nipples, his fingers between her legs teasing her, tickling her, trying everything he could think of, but she couldn't focus entirely on him or on what he was proposing.

Daryl huffed and hovered over her, pulling her face toward him.

"OK," he said. "Ya ain't even wet an' tryin' ta get more I done rubbed off every damn bit we had ta work with so ya gonna tell me why ya don't wanna do this?"

Carol had been trapped in some kind of odd emotional spiral since they'd had dinner at the Greene household. She felt like internally she was on the scrambler ride at the fair and everything shifted gears so often she didn't even know what was going on. She hadn't put anything in the cookie jar because, honestly, she wasn't even sure where to begin to express what was going on.

Beth had mentioned them getting married and it had started the entire thing. It had flipped a switch to the scrambler and now she didn't know how to turn the damn thing off.

"I'm sorry," she offered. "I could take care of you…"

She started to shift and Daryl put his palm against her chest, pushing her back down. He propped himself up on his elbow but didn't move his hand and only barely raised up on the pressure.

"I done been tryin' ta fix ya so long I don't even care no more," Daryl said. "I ain't lookin' for ya ta take care a' me I'm lookin' for ya ta tell me what the hell's goin' on with ya 'cause ya ain't put shit in the jar an' that's the deal."

Carol sighed.

"There's nothing to put in the jar. I don't know what to say," Carol said.

"Well for fuck's sake," Daryl said, "say somethin'! Everytime I do this…" He rubbed at her clit and she shifted a little, "it gets a rise outta ya. But tonight I'm pretty damn sure that I done made it sore an' ya ain't even bit'cha damn lips nor rolled ya head back none. Most I'm gettin' outta ya is squirmin' an we done travelled 'round the bed 'bout four times now."

Carol almost chuckled at him. He wasn't mad and she could see that. He was frustrated, but not mad.

"Do you love me?" She asked.

Daryl curled his lip at her.

"Fuck kinda question is that? Ya know I love ya," he said.

Carol knew that he said he loved her, and she felt, most of the time, like he loved her, but the scrambler inside of her had her going back and forth on whether she believed it or not.

"Do you want this baby?" Carol asked.

Daryl trailed his fingertips across her stomach causing her to flinch involuntarily with the tickle.

"Ya know the answer ta that question too, Carol. We done been over this…how many times we gotta talk about it?" Daryl asked.

Carol realized that she was going over things that they'd talked about, in some form or another, several different times. This was nothing new. There were no new feelings, but she didn't know how to explain that whether they were new feeling or old feelings they never seemed to go away. She didn't know how to just put them away somewhere and never hear from them again. And right now…right at this moment…she felt like she hand more of them than she even knew what to do with.

"It's OK," Carol said. "You're right…" She started to try to roll over, but Daryl put his hand back on her chest and pushed her down again.

"Aaack!" He scolded with the same sound he used just before they caught Lincoln marking his territory somewhere in the house. "Ya ain't goin' no damn where."

"I'm just going to sleep," Carol protested.

Daryl sighed.

"I love ya and I want the baby. OK? Next question?" Daryl asked.

"I don't have anymore," Carol said. It was a lie, but now she felt like she didn't want to keep going. She knew that Daryl was frustrated and she couldn't blame him at all. Being asked the same question over and over and being expected to keep answering it was probably almost infuriating. "This isn't about you, Daryl, OK? This is my problem, not yours."

Daryl pushed down against her when she tried to roll again.

"That hurts…" she said. Daryl let up a little frowning at her.

"Ain't tryin' ta hurt'cha but ya done asked me if I love ya an' ya asked me if I want the baby, so I don't reckon this sounds like ya problem ta me. Sounds like it might be our problem an' ya ain't rollin' ya ass away from me 'til ya tell me what the hell is goin' on with ya!"

Carol looked at him in the dim light. He had the bathroom light still on so he could see when he got up to return to Lincoln his access to the bed, and the light spilled over them. Daryl's eyebrows were tightly knit and he was chewing a little at the inside of his mouth.

"Do you think the baby changes the way you think about me?" Carol asked.

Daryl looked like he was considering the question.

"I reckon…" he said. "It's weird 'cause now I kinda think about ya like there's more than one of ya. 'Cause it ain't really you and it ain't really the baby. Ya like some kinda…I don't know…some kinda thing all wound up together."

Carol nodded a little.

"But do you think that if it were just me that you'd still feel the way you do about me? You didn't tell me you loved me until you knew about the baby," Carol said.

Daryl snorted.

"That's 'cause by the time I figured it out ya already told me ya was bakin' the thing," Daryl said. "I knowed it before ya told me there was a kid in ya…but I didn't know what ta call it."

"So you think you'd still love me if there weren't any baby?" Carol asked.

Daryl shifted.

"What's wrong?" He asked. "Somethin' wrong with the baby?"

Carol shook her head.

"But if there were," Carol asked, "would it change anything?"

Daryl leaned in then and Carol expected him to kiss her, but he didn't, not on the lips. He kissed her cheekbones, one and then the other and then he kissed her forehead, his fingers on her jaw, turning her face.

"I ain't had a whole buncha shit in my life, Carol," Daryl said. "Most a' what I do got, though, I've had near so damn long that I can't even remember when I got it or how it came ta be mine. I ain't never had nothin', though, that I gave half a damn about like I do with you. Hell, I didn't even know I fuckin' wanted ya 'til I got'cha…an' I keep fuckin' that shit up so much it scares the hell outta me. Now I want both of ya, but if it was just you then I'd be OK with that too."

Carol could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she was having a hard time breathing and trying to hold back the sobs. Daryl had returned his hand to her chest and now he looked at her.

"Ya alright? Ya hurt?" He asked.

Carol realized that it was probably dark enough that he couldn't see tears welling in her eyes so the sudden spasming of her chest probably didn't have much of an explanation. When she opened her mouth to try to explain it to him, though, she started crying and she couldn't help it.

"Hey, it's OK," Daryl said. He sat up and she felt him running his hands up and down her arms. "Tell me why ya cryin'…what's wrong?"

Carol couldn't really tell him until she'd calmed down a little and gotten control of her emotions, the scrambler of emotion inside of her shifting gears for a bit and heading in the other direction. She pulled herself up to lean on her elbows and Daryl's hand went back like he was going to push her down again. She closed her hand around his wrist.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, her voice sounding water logged from the sobbing. "I could lose this baby, Daryl, and if I do I don't want to think that you'd go too. I don't want to think that you wouldn't think our relationship was worth fighting for."

"I ain't goin' nowhere," Daryl said. He shifted around and sat up straight in front of her, crossing his legs like he was settling in for whatever duration of conversation needed to take place here. "I done unpacked my stuff, so I ain't goin' nowhere 'til I get kicked out."

Carol smiled at him a little.

"I'm not kicking you out," Carol said.

"Why ya worried 'bout the baby?" Daryl asked. "Ya went ta the doctor, didn't ya? Ya said they told ya it was all fine, so why ya worried? Somethin' happen ya ain't told me about? Ya feelin' OK?"

"Daryl…when I was with Ed…" she saw the look cross Daryl's face that happened every time she mentioned Ed. She tried to avoid talking about him as much as possible because it stirred all kinds of things up in Daryl. "I was pregnant once."

"I thought ya said ya ain't done this before," Daryl said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"It wasn't the same," Carol said.

"So ya lied?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Not exactly, Daryl," she said. "It wasn't like this…it wasn't something that I got to really have…it wasn't something I could enjoy and talk about."

Daryl frowned.

"But ya was havin' his kid…" Daryl said.

Carol felt bad. She felt like from the beginning she should have told Daryl that she'd been pregnant with Ed's child at some point. Maybe telling him back then would make him not have the disappointed look that he had now. She wasn't really sure if he was actually mad about it, or just simply mad that he didn't know.

"Daryl, I lost that baby," Carol said. "And the books that the doctors gave me…they said that I have a better chance of losing this baby than other women because I lost that one before."

Daryl's facial expression was pretty much the same. It was sullen but Carol assumed he was processing it…doing whatever it was that Daryl did when he was presented with something that he needed time to wrap his mind around.

"Are you mad at me?" She asked after a minute. She could feel her stomach churning just from the conversation and she worried that she was going to have to leave abruptly if it didn't calm down some. This wasn't the best time to go running for the bathroom and she tried, mentally, to convey that message to her body.

Daryl made a face at her. He shook his head after a minute.

"No," he said, softly. "I ain't mad…what happened ta ya?"

Carol sighed and lie back down against the bed. The events of the night she'd played over and over in her head so many times that it almost felt like she hadn't been there. It felt more like she had just watched the whole thing on a movie or something.

"Ed came home that night," Carol said. "He'd been drinking. Down at the Watering Hole probably and he was pissed about something…I don't even remember what. He drug me out of bed…started hitting me…kicking me…" Carol took a breath and watched in her mind as the film she created played again. She tried not to let herself get worked up. If she was going to tell Daryl any of the stories of her life, she was going to have to learn to do it without crying…or at least without crying so much she couldn't finish the story. She rolled and this time Daryl let her since she was rolling facing him. She tucked her pillow under her head. "Ed never wanted the baby…and I shouldn't have said anything about it. It might have been OK if I had just let him forget it was there…but I wasn't thinking so I begged him not to…"

She felt Daryl put his hand on her shoulder. He wasn't giving her permission not to continue, but he was doing his best to offer her some sort of support. He squeezed her a little and she stared straight ahead, knowing that if she looked at his face she might not stay as laced together as she'd been thus far.

"I just didn't want him hurting the baby. I thought that I could…I don't know…absorb most of it. When I said it, though, it just threw him into a whole new level of rage. He drug me…choking me…to the door that led to the basement," she paused, wiping at the tears that didn't do what they were supposed to do and stay inside. "I told the doctors before that I'd fallen down the stairs," Carol said. "I never fell down those stupid fucking stairs…not even that time…"

Daryl rubbed her back.

"That's enough," he said, his voice a little sharp. Carol turned to look at him. His face was twisted up in an odd sort of way and he looked almost boiling mad. "Don't say no more or I'm liable to drive ta fuckin' county tonight an' see when the fuck they got visitin' hours."

Carol frowned. She felt like she couldn't manipulate her face into any other position at the moment. It was frozen in the frown or either she could give in and fall back into another round of sobs and she didn't want that. She felt sure that the sobbing would make her throw up.

"We ain't got no basement, Carol," Daryl said. "An' the step down from the side door…it ain't no big fall. Ya might scrape ya knee or somethin' if ya fell, but it ain't not big fall. An' I ain't never gonna hurt'cha like he did. Don't matter if ya pregnant or not, I ain't gonna hurt'cha…not on purpose. So ya reckon ya could keep the kid this time? If none a' that shit happens?"

Sometimes Carol worried that the same things that had happened with Ed would eventually happen with Daryl. One day he was just going to snap and she wouldn't even recognize him. He'd begin to act like Ed had acted and she'd go falling back into her life just like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. She knew, too, that when she thought about those things it had little to do with Daryl. There wasn't any reason at all for her to fear that things were going to happen that way…Daryl wasn't like Ed…but it didn't mean that she didn't worry about it and it didn't mean that her mind didn't sometimes try to convince her that she was wrong because she'd never realized Ed was like he was until it was too late. They were already married, and she felt trapped.

"I don't think you'd do that, Daryl…" Carol said. "And I'm going to try to keep the baby safe…"

Daryl unfolded his legs then and leaned back down, pushing her back on her back again. She went over easy, letting him move her. He bumped her chin quickly with the knuckle of his pointer finger and kissed her, his tongue gliding around inside her mouth. She closed her eyes, letting herself sigh into his mouth. His hand went to her chest. She could feel her heart pounding from all the feelings that she'd stirred up…from the scrambler of emotions…and she wondered if he could feel it too. Her answer came a minute later.

"Ya fuckin' heart's poundin' like ya gonna have a heart attack," Daryl said. He lie down next to her and pushed his body against hers, pulling her tight against him. "This whole damn thing's got'cha fuckin' terrified an' there ain't shit for ya ta be freakin' out about. I love ya…I love the damn kid…I ain't gonna hurt ya an' I'll break the fuckin' neck a' any damn body that tries ta hurt'cha or my kid, OK?"

Carol chuckled a little.

"OK," she said, softly. She was starting to calm down, starting to believe his words and to sink back into the warm comfort she'd felt before her mind started getting the best of her. Daryl's hands ran along her body again, but this time he wasn't seeking out the sexual pleasure he'd been trying to tease from her earlier. Now, at best, she could describe what he was doing as petting her, rubbing his hands down in search of comfort and calm…and it was working.

Daryl chuckled.

"Fuckin' shit messin' with ya an' gettin' ya all fuckin' worked up," he grumbled. He threw his leg over her and she almost chuckled as he slid her body along the bed and almost completely under his, wrestling about a bit until she was almost entirely covered by him, but he still managed not to be weighing down on her with much more than a comfortable pressure.

She chuckled a little.

"What are you doing?" She asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"What the hell's it look like I'm doin'?" Daryl asked. "I'm burrowin' ya."

Carol giggled.

"It feels like you're burying me," she said.

Daryl huffed a little, still covering her.

"That's alright," he said. "Ain't shit gonna bother ya like this. Can ya breathe?" He asked.

Carol thought about it a second and giggled again.

"Yes," she said.

"Am I squashin' ya?" Daryl asked.

"No…not really," Carol said.

"Am I squashin' the baby?" Daryl asked.

Carol giggled again.

"No, Daryl, I don't think so…" she responded.

"Fine, then," Daryl said, he moved his arm and pulled the cover up over them, returning his arm to its original position a second later. "Can't nothin' fuck with ya an' I bet'cha feels pretty damn save in there, don't it?"

Carol giggled and thought about it. She did feel pretty safe at the moment.

"It kinda does, actually," she responded.

"There ya go," Daryl said. "Now, I love ya…calm the fuck down an' get some sleep. Ya gonna be up 'fore long anyway."

Carol got quiet for a minute.

"I figured you'd try to have sex with me again," Carol admitted.

Daryl turned his head and kissed the side of her face, right at the jaw before readjusting himself a little in his odd position.

"Not right now," he said. "Reckon I'll save that up for tomorrow. Maybe we sneak in a lil' lovin' 'fore dinner?"

Carol snickered.

"I think we could do that," Carol said. She lie there for a moment. "You never put Lincoln's stairs back."

Daryl sighed.

"He's done asleep in the other room. Ain't heard his toenails. I reckon that big damn bed he got an' the couch outta hold him for one night. Now close ya eyes an' go ta sleep 'fore I gotta figure out how ta bury ya deeper so ya can't even see nothin'," Daryl responded.

Carol sighed and closed her eyes. She was tired…very tired in fact. Now that she was coming down off of all the random worries that rolled around in her brain she could feel the need to rest. She was also warm and comfortable with Daryl lying there like he was.

"I love you, Daryl," Carol said.

"Love ya too, woman," Daryl responded. Carol could tell from his voice that he was already working on sleeping. She closed her eyes, hoping that she followed soon after him.


	78. Chapter 78

**AN: So here we go, another update here! **

**As always, I'm always thrilled to hear from you and I'm glad you're still enjoying the story. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"So anyway," Carol said, leaning back in the chair in Michonne's office and picking at her Chinese food, "this guy shows up again at the Watering Hole and Andrea's flipping out about it so I waited on him…"

"What did you say his name was again?" Michonne asked.

"Philip," Carol said. "Philip Black or Blake or something like that…so anyway now we're watching out for the guy in case he's like serial killer or something come to wreak havoc on Sweet Junction."

Michonne wrinkled her forehead and filled her mouth with noodles, spinning herself in her chair a little with her foot.

"That name sounds familiar," she said when she swallowed. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

Carol shrugged.

"Maybe he's wanted for something?" Carol asked. "Andrea would really lose it then."

Michonne shook her head.

"I'm serious," Michonne said. "I feel like I know that name…did we got to school with him?"

Carol shook her head.

"No…at least I don't know him. It's kind of a common sounding name, though. It's not like it really jumps out at you," Carol responded.

Michonne shrugged.

"You're probably right," she said. "It's probably only familiar because I've probably passed over at least twenty of them in documents in the past week or so."

Michonne went quiet, focusing on the noodles she was trying to eat with chopsticks instead of just admitting, like Carol, that she needed a fork. Carol sat, looking around at the paneled walls in Michonne's dimly lit office. She thought that if she lived in these offices as much as Michonne did she'd either go crazy or go blind.

"So you never told me," Michonne said. "How did your dinner with the iconic Greene family go?"

Carol shrugged.

"I didn't eat dinner," Carol said. "That house was so hot, Michonne. I couldn't breathe and the baby was having no part of food in there."

Michonne frowned.

"I remember those days," she said. "I got sick when I got hot too. Didn't matter what I was doing, if I got hot it was game over. I kept the house set at Antarctica."

Carol snickered.

"Our house is pretty cold too…and then I get cold so I have to put on clothes, but I won't let Daryl touch the thermostat," Carol said.

"Other than that everything fine? Daryl behaving?" Michonne asked.

Carol nodded.

"Daryl's trying really hard," Carol said. "And the cookie jar idea…it just works. It's like even if we don't use it, it's just nice to have it there. The rest of the time at the Greene's was nice. We were going to bring pumpkins home to paint, but we're waiting for Miss Jo to pick some pretty ones."

Michonne grinned.

"Painting pumpkins? Seriously? Who the hell are you two?" Michonne asked.

Carol rolled her eyes.

"Now you sound like Andrea," Carol said. "She's always giving us a hard time about being disgusting and stuff."

Michonne shook her head.

"I'm teasing. I'm glad the two of you make each other happy. I wouldn't have it any other way. If you want to paint pumpkins, then by all means, paint a whole damn patch," Michonne said.

"Beth Greene asked when we were getting married," Carol said. She made a face at Michonne.

"Now that is not a face that goes with painting pumpkins," Michonne said. "What's wrong?"

Carol shrugged.

"I don't know…we haven't talked about it. I don't know if I want to marry Daryl," Carol said. "I'm scared he's going to ask me and I'm not going to know how to answer."

Michonne wrinkled her eyebrows.

"I thought you were all in love with him," Michonne said.

"I do love him," Carol said.

"So if you love him and you're having a baby together then why would you even need to think about whether or not you want to marry him? Am I missing something?" Michonne asked.

"Would you marry Tyreese if he asked you?" Carol asked.

Michonne leaned back in her chair, leaving her cardboard box of lunch on the desk. She fiddled with one of her dreadlocks while she considered it.

"I don't know," she said. "I mean…I haven't thought about it, but I guess I would."

"But you hesitated," Carol said. "Why did you hesitate?"

Michonne shrugged.

"Because I haven't thought about it," she said. "I don't know. I mean I don't have anything against marrying him."

"I guess," Carol said, "I just worry that things would change if we got married. What if we got married and Daryl felt like he was trapped? What if he felt like that was the only reason he was there? Or what if something happened with the baby? I mean he says that it wouldn't matter to him and that he's not just with me because of that…but things change when you get married."

Michonne snorted.

"Carol…" Michonne said. "Yes, things change when you get married. Your last name changes…your taxes change…all kinds of things change, but I don't think that a piece of paper that changed your last name to Dixon is going to change who Daryl is fundamentally."

Carol sat back. She knew she was being ridiculous. She felt ridiculous. She argued with herself about all the feelings she was having, but it didn't stop them from being there. She hadn't figured out how to switch them off and put them away. They kept popping back up like demented jack in the boxes springing out to torture her a little more when she'd finally shoved the lid back down in them.

"It did with Ed," Carol said. "He was never…he wasn't like he was before we got married. It was like a switch got flipped."

"You didn't live with Ed before you married him either," Michonne said. "People can talk all the shit they want and vomit Bible verses and everything else all over me if it makes them happy, but I still say one of the very best things that people can do before they get married is live together…and not just for a day or two. Really get in there and live together."

"No, I didn't live with him before," Carol said. She made a face.

"I'm telling you," Michonne said. "Think about it. When you live with someone for a while, it's all out on the table. You end up knowing the good, the bad, and the really, really ugly. When you don't live with someone they've got time to paint the picture they want you to see. Daryl's not painting you any pictures right now."

Carol nodded. It was true that they were as relaxed around each other as they could be. She was sure, some days at least, that Daryl should turn tail and run just from looking at her. She knew what she looked like these days when she'd just spent the morning being sick, but he didn't seem to even notice. He usually slipped in the bathroom, rubbed her back, and offered her a washcloth. Things like that, but he never said anything to her about looking terrible.

In fact, the strangest thing to her was that Daryl didn't seem to like it when she wore make up. He liked a little mascara or some lip gloss, but if there was enough there that he could really tell she had it on, he didn't care for it. And it wasn't the same way that Ed had been about it. Ed had always had a fit when she'd worn make up. He'd always lashed out and accused her of being a whore. He'd said she was trying to get some man's attention or this or that. Daryl didn't like it because he said it didn't look like her. It was almost like he preferred her without the bells and whistles because she was just plain…and he liked plain. She would have almost considered it an insult, but there was something so sweet about the way he acted about it that she couldn't have taken it for an insult if she'd wanted to.

She felt like there wasn't much bad or ugly about Daryl though…there wasn't much to see when it came to that. The worst thing about him was that he was hard headed about doing things his way, and sometimes he got moody when things weren't working how he wanted them to work, but she felt like since his time with his brother had been limited more by his move, Daryl didn't even have as many moody moments as he'd once had.

"I guess you're right," Carol said. She sat there a minute and then shook her head sighing. "I know you're right, Michonne, but it doesn't stop me from worrying about things."

"You've got to get a hold on that," Michonne said. "I know you like to worry like it's a hobby, but you need to work on it. You're worried about Daryl and I really think that you don't have to be. I think you're seeing all the cards that Daryl's holding right now. You worry about the baby all the time too, and you need to stop that. You're going to be the worst thing to happen to this baby if you don't calm down. Stop freaking out about things. Just sit back and enjoy the fact that for once in your life things are going well. Consider it God paying you back for the hell you suffered with Ed."

Carol groaned. Michonne was right. She knew she was right, but it seemed so much easier some days to know something than it was to actually believe it. It was like her brain was split in two and there was one half that knew the information and then there was the other that tried to convince her that everything she knew was a lie.

"You know what I feel like?" Carol said after a few minutes.

"God I hope it's like a milkshake because I'd pay you to run to the Dairy-O and pick us some up," Michonne said, her eyes getting big for a moment.

Carol chuckled. She wasn't actually thinking about food…she was pretty full from lunch, but now that MIchonne had said it, one of the Dairy-O's milkshakes did sound really good.

"I wasn't talking about food," Carol said. "But I will get us milkshakes if you want one…I was going to say that I feel like those cartoons you used to see. You know the ones where there's like a devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other? I feel like I've got those things sitting on my shoulder all the time. One of them tells me that things are going to be fine, but the other one is an asshole and he just sits there telling me that it's all going to fall apart."

"Nothing's going to fall apart," Michonne said with a sigh. "As much as I hated for people to say it to me, I'm going to say that it's just hormones or something like that driving you crazy. You're already a pretty amped up person, and the hormones just kick whatever you've got going against you into overdrive. You never saw anything more intense than me on a cleaning spree when I was pregnant. I was convinced that you could see germs."

Carol laughed. She got up and dropped her empty lunch plate in the garbage can.

"Fine…I'm going to calm down and drive to the Dairy-O," Carol said. "What do you want?"

"Mint chocolate chip…and tell them not to cheat me. I want whipped cream too," Michonne said. She pulled her purse up and passed Carol a check. "We'll put it on the books as a business expense. I want ice cream and all the clients whose cases I'm working on today want me to have ice cream."

Carol took the check and shook her head.

"Does your dad ever wonder about the business expenses?" Carol asked. Michonne's father was a quiet old man. He seemed pretty stern, perhaps a little controlling and maybe that's where Michonne got it from, but she liked him.

"I'm Daddy's little girl," Michonne said with a smile. "I haven't done anything wrong since I was probably four and figured that out."

Carol smiled. She could see that. Michonne's father didn't smile much, but he did smile at Michonne. Carol understood it a little. She'd been Daddy's little girl herself until her father passed away. Her heart clenched a little when she thought about it and she folded the check into a small square while she stood there, distracting herself from the memory.

"I'll be right back," she said.

"Take your time," Michonne said. "I don't have any appointments for the rest of the day so it's not like I'll be beheading anyone in your absence."

Carol waved slightly at her and turned, heading out the door.

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Carol was glad that Merle hadn't come by to work on his bike. By the time that she got home from Michonne's she was exhausted and didn't feel at all like dealing with Merle's mouth. Even though he didn't launch into his philosophical speeches as often since he was working on the bike, he was still too much when all you wanted to do was collapse onto the sofa and not move.

Carol pulled the pork chops out of the freezer and tossed them into the sink. She let Lincoln out into the yard and went to rest her eyes on the couch for just a moment.

That was exactly where she was when she woke up, swiping at her nose itching.

When she opened her eyes, Daryl was standing above her, grinning, and dancing some piece of string that he'd found somewhere or another under her nose. She swiped at it again.

"Thought I was gonna have ta do some damn CPR or shit on ya," Daryl said. "How long ya fuckin' been unconscious for?"

Carol sat up, realizing she'd fallen asleep. Her head was swimming and she wasn't entirely back in her element.

"Oh God! I don't know…Daryl where's Lincoln?" Carol asked.

Daryl frowned.

"About that…" he said.

Carol felt her stomach clench.

"Daryl! Where's Lincoln!" She asked, gaining her feet, perhaps a little too quickly. Daryl stuck his hand out and caught her by the arm.

"Calm down, woman. He's in the yard, but he can't come back in 'til I get out there an' wash him. I hope ya weren't fond a none a' that damn grass that was startin' to grow 'cause he thinks he's part earthworm or some shit an' he's damn near dug every bit a' it up," Daryl said.

Carol put her hand over her chest. Her heart was already pounding.

"I fell asleep…I forgot he was out there. I wasn't going to sleep long, I only meant to just close my eyes…" she said.

Daryl pulled her to him and wrapped an arm around him.

"Damn, calm down. Ya took a fuckin' nap not robbed a bank!" Daryl said. "Dog's fine. He's dirty as fuck but he's so damn happy about it ya wouldn't believe it."

"I've got to make dinner," Carol said. "I haven't even started it…" She wrapped her arms around Daryl and buried her head into his chest.

"So make dinner an' I'll wash the dog…but first ya gotta come see what Miss Jo sent'cha," Daryl said. He pulled away from her and started out the door and Carol followed behind him. They stepped out the side door and on the ground next to the step Daryl had arranged three pumpkins of differing sizes. He grinned at her. "She sent'cha a pumpkin family…even found ya a baby pumpkin. Got some paint and shit in the house but she said be sure ta wash her brushes out."

Carol thought she might cry over the pumpkins and she thought that would be pretty hard to explain to Daryl.

"Can we paint them tonight?" She asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"They're your fuckin' pumpkins," Daryl said. "Ya can do what'cha want with 'em."

"Let's paint them after dinner," Carol said.

Daryl shrugged.

"Whatever the hell ya want, woman," Daryl said.

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After the pumpkins were painted and Carol had arranged them like she wanted them, it hadn't taken much to convince Daryl to take a shower with her. She stripped down and stepped into the shower a few moments before he got in, the water spraying down over them.

"The only thing I don't like about this house is that the bathtubs aren't bigger," Carol said when he was in the shower with her. He dipped his head and kissed her neck, sucking at the water there. The motion sent a shiver through her. It was evident that the last thing on Daryl's mind at this moment was an actual shower.

"Seems plenty big ta me," he said. He turned her a little and pressed her against the wall, his mouth almost frantic as he moved over her jaw and neck, his tongue lapping at her collarbone. Carol felt her breathing picking up pace just from the kissing and the anticipation of what was coming.

"I meant to actually get in the tub," she said. She swallowed and moaned without even meaning to when his hands went to her breasts, pinching and tugging at her nipples. She bucked forward, into him, and he hissed a little.

Daryl pulled away from her a bit and grabbed her shoulders, turning her around and pushing her down toward the end of the tub. She didn't protest. She knew that she wanted this just as much as he did and however he chose for it to happen was more than agreeable for her. When Daryl's hands snaked around her, harassing her breasts again, Carol bucked back into him.

He leaned in and chuckled a little, biting at her ear, his tongue trailing over it as he held it gently between his teeth. When he moved his mouth had growled at her before nipping the back of her neck and she ground back into him again, making him chuckle once more.

"Pumpkin's turn ya ass on, huh?" He asked.

"Mmmm mmm," Carol moaned.

"They don't?" Daryl asked, slipping his hand between her legs and teasing her with his fingertip. Carol leaned forward and rested her head on the cool wall.

"No," she panted. "You do."

"I do, huh?" Daryl asked with a chuckle. "It's hot when ya talk sexy, ya know that?" Daryl asked.

"Mmm mmm," Carol said. She wasn't really used to saying a whole lot in bed. She'd never wanted to say anything to Ed that he would have wanted to hear and even if she had she wouldn't have wanted to know what he would do about it. With Daryl she had never exactly gotten into it. Mostly she felt dirty if she even indicated to him at all that she did or didn't like something. It always made her face burn hot to even think about it. He was teasing her now, though, and she could hardly stand it. He kept running his fingertips against her, barely brushing her, just enough to make her almost want to scream, and the damn thing was he was getting a kick out of it.

"I think I want'cha ta ask me," Daryl said. He rubbed against her with his body, his teasing not letting up. Sometimes he wanted her to say please.

"Please, Daryl," she said, giving in.

"Nope," he said. He sucked at the back of her neck and flicked her nub causing her to whimper without even meaning to. He chuckled.

"Please what?" He asked. "Tell me what'cha want an' I promise ya gonna get it."

"I want you," Carol said, she felt her cheeks already start to burn.

"Want me ta do what ta ya?" Daryl asked. "Ta stop?"

"Daryl, please?" Carol asked. She turned a little, searching him out. She knew what he wanted but she didn't feel comfortable talking like that, even to him.

"Come on," Daryl urged, kissing the side of her face. "Ya can do it," he teased.

Carol sighed. She didn't know why it was so hard for her, but she didn't feel like the kind of person who asked someone to do sexual things to her. At best she really felt more like the kind of person who wanted to thank Daryl for his interest. Suddenly the feeling bubbling up inside her over not wanting to have to say the words was almost more than her desire to have him inside her. She turned halfway around, looking at him.

Daryl's face fell and she could tell that her facial expression probably showed him that she'd moved beyond enjoying the little game of the moment. Carol shook her head.

"I don't like it…" she said. "I'm sorry…but I just don't want to…I don't want to say it," Carol said.

Daryl frowned.

"Sorry," he said. "Ya ain't really gotta say it. Just don't start cryin' OK? Ya been doin' that a lot when we tryin' ta have fun an' I don't feel like ya havin' a real good time when ya cryin' the whole damn time."

Carol wished he hadn't said it because saying it made her feel like she wanted to cry. She took a deep breath and resumed her position. After a moment, Daryl very hesitantly brought his hands back to her breasts and she knew that he was nervous now about whether or not he should continue. She closed her eyes again and let herself get swept back up in the feeling of him touching her.

Her breathing started to pick up pace and she felt him teasing her again. This time she felt him nudging her feet with his own and she spread her legs out for him bracing herself on the shower wall. He'd teased her when she'd bought the butterfly traction stickers to go in the bottom of the tub, but as she felt her foot slip a little before hitting one she thought to herself that he'd figure out before long they were a good idea.

Daryl put one hand on her hip and she gasped a little at the feeling of him suddenly filling her. He paused a moment, resituating himself, and then he found a rhythm that he liked. It was one that she liked too and she leaned her head forward. One of his arms wrapped around her waist and his other hand came beside hers on the wall as he picked up the pace.

Carol cried out when she came and it echoed through the bathroom. He tightened his grip on her waist and increased his pace more, driving into her harder until he found his own release. As he came down, he kissed her shoulder and she fought the urge to relax to a point that would have her finding her knees on the shower floor.

Daryl held onto her, turning her around as he calmed. She found his mouth, kissing him.

"One a' these days," he said when he pulled his mouth away from hers. "Ya gonna feel like ya can say it…all of it, an' then I'm gonna make damn sure it's the best ya ever got."

Carol leaned against his chest, kissing him and rubbing her face against him.

"Maybe one of these days I'll say it," she said. "But it's always the best…"

Daryl rubbed her back and hugged her against him for a moment before suggesting that they actually use their shower for the purpose that it was intended for. Carol didn't mind. She had half a mind that when they made it to the bed she was going to suggest they use it for other purposes besides sleeping as well. She might not be able to say it as flavorfully as others, but that didn't mean she wasn't all for doing it.


	79. Chapter 79

**AN: Here's a little update for the day. Probably the last one here to mark the end of my weekend. **

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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Carol surveyed her yard and frowned. She was busy dragging the rake back and forth from one side to the next in some effort to smooth out the ground. She had very little hope of achieving any kind of magazine lawn, but at least she could maybe get rid of some of the potholes that Lincoln the landscaper had taken to making every time he was let out.

Lincoln was running laps around and around the fence while she worked, completely unaware that she wasn't pleased with his efforts to design a new yard for her.

"Someone could break something out here, you know that?" She asked the dog who wasn't paying her a bit of attention. "I wouldn't be very happy with you if it was me and I can bet your daddy wouldn't be pleased either."

Carol shook her head and continued shifting dirt around. What she couldn't figure out about the yard was how it was that no one had taken any of the dirt away that Lincoln had dug out to form the holes, yet there didn't seem to be enough dirt to fill them back up.

Carol looked up from her work a moment when Lincoln starting baying, his nose pressed firmly against the fence.

Walking by, on the sidewalk, was a figure that she immediately recognized as Axel, the man from the diner. He didn't notice at her at first though. His attention was turned to what it was that was making Lincoln bark, and that was whatever animal was making the yipping noise from outside.

Carol smiled as Axel reached down and scooped up the yipping animal, bringing something like an overgrown Chihuahua into view as he stood. Upon standing his eyes also crossed over her and he looked at her a second before smiling.

"Well hey there!" Axel said.

Carol smiled and walked forward, glancing toward the ground so as to avoid falling in any of Lincoln's mines, and let herself out the little gate in front, pushing Lincoln back with her foot until she could get the door closed.

"Hi," she said. "Am I correct in guessing that you chose a house around here?"

Axel smiled and glanced back in the direction from which he'd come. He pointed.

"Just around that corner there. Two houses down," he said. "I didn't realize you lived here. We're practically neighbors."

Carol glanced in the direction he pointed and shaded her eyes with her hand. They were truly almost neighbors, since she had a clear view of the back of his house.

"We are, you're right," Carol said. "How are you liking it?"

Axel shrugged a little putting the yippy dog down where it immediately stuck its nose between the fence boards to have its own kind of conversation with Lincoln.

"I like it," Axel said. "Not too settled in just yet. Got enough furniture to almost look like someone lives there."

Carol laughed.

"I know what you mean. I'm all settled in but I've only got a handful of pieces myself. It's going to take a while to get the whole place furnished," Carol said.

"I haven't seen you at the diner," Axel said. "How ya feeling?"

Carol nodded her head a little.

"Fine," she said. "Nothing too serious. Just a little low blood sugar is all."

Axel nodded his understanding.

"Can't be messing with that stuff," he said. "Tried to help you when you went out. I think everyone got scared. You must have hit your head or something, took a few minutes to get you back."

Carol nodded.

"It's OK," she said. "I have a hard head so there was no lasting damage."

She looked down at her feet where the dog had lost interest in Lincoln for the moment and was trying to climb her leg. Axel looked down and realized it at the same time, so he tugged the dog backwards.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "She don't got manners."

Carol smiled.

"Yours, I'm guessing?" She asked.

Axel nodded.

"Name's Juniper or Juny. I didn't name her though. I got her about six years ago from a shelter and they named her. She seemed to like it so I didn't see no need in changing it," Axel said.

Carol knelt down and let the dog attack her, trying to get into her lap. She could hear Lincoln inside the fence protesting what he could see through the crack and she was sure he was going to let her hear about it later.

"She's cute," Carol said. "What kind of a dog is she?"

Axel chuckled.

"Just a mut, I suppose," he said. "She didn't come with any papers or anything. Don't really matter much, though, she's as good at doing everything any other dog would do, I guess. She hasn't been fond of the new house. She already tore out the molding between the kitchen floor and the dining room."

Carol stood up and Axel reached his hand out, catching her arm to help her up. She smiled at him.

"So yours is a contractor and mine's a landscaper. Together they'd be billionaires," Carol said. Axel stepped onto the grass and gazed over the side of the fence at Lincoln. Lincoln looked at him a moment and then returned to baying, now standing with his paws on the fence.

"Cute little guy," Axel said.

"His name's Lincoln, and he's what happened to the yard," Carol said, sweeping her hand out as though she were displaying the dirt garden in front of her for his inspection. Axel looked at it, chuckling a little and nodding his head.

"He does nice work," Axel said. "Oughta get him to come over and do my yard."

"He's up for hire. If you've got any grass growing in your lot he'll make sure that the evil stuff is eradicated," Carol said with a laugh.

Axel stood there a moment, looking at Carol before he smiled and looked down at the dog that was trying to tangle his legs in her leash.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be seeing you around," Axel said. "I best get Juny to walking. Her termite practices are worse if she's not tired out at the end of the day."

"I'm sure I'll see you around," Carol said, smiling.

Axel untangled his legs from the leash and Carol stood there. She glanced at the sound of an approaching car and saw T-Dog pulling up, signaling just as he pulled into her driveway to drop Merle off for another round of cuss and kick at the motorcycle under her carport.

"Looks like ya got company," Axel said, nodding his head in the direction of the car, the very direction he was about to start in.

Carol nodded and sighed a little.

"Yes, I do have that," she said. Axel stayed where he was while T-Dog backed out of the drive and drove past them honking his horn slightly and waving at Carol who waved back.

"Well," Axel said, "guess I'll see you around. Take care and mind that blood sugar."

Carol smiled.

"I will, see you!" She said. Axel continued down the sidewalk in the direction he'd been travelling, the little dog running diagonal lines in front of him from one side of the sidewalk to the next. Carol stayed where she was watching him for a moment before she started around the side of the yard and up the driveway toward the carport where she could already the sound of metal on concrete that told her Merle was beginning whatever task he had in mind for the day.

"Who the hell was that?" Merle growled at her as she came under the carport.

Carol knew who he was talking about, but she glanced instinctively at the road again before answering him. He wasn't looking at her, he was too focused on whatever he was looking for inside the big red toolbox that had taken up residency under there instead of in the back of Daryl's truck where it had begun its life.

"That was Axel," Carol said. "I know him from the diner. He lives a couple of houses over in that direction." Carol waved her hand in the direction, but she realized Merle was paying her little attention. He continued what he was doing for a moment and then he looked up at her.

"My brothah know ya entertainin' men while he's at work?" Merle asked.

Carol didn't like Merle's tone of voice.

"I wasn't entertaining anyone, Merle. He was walking his dog and he passed by on the sidewalk. I spoke to him, that's all there was," Carol said. She swallowed, keeping her eyes focused on Merle.

Merle looked down the driveway and toward the road a moment, nodding his head.

"Ya was lookin' friendly with him," Merle said.

"Because I smiled at him, Merle? Or because he smiled at me?" Carol asked. "It is being friendly…and there's nothing wrong with it."

Merle looked back at her and sucked his teeth before he went back to whatever he was supposed to be doing to the bike.

"Nothin' wrong with it 'til there is," Merle said.

Carol put her hands on her hips. She had no idea how Andrea tolerated the man in front of her. He may have his moments where you didn't fantasize about shoving garden shears through his throat, but they were few and far between, and right this moment just the tone of his voice had Carol's blood racing.

"Don't make something out of nothing," Carol said. She realized that she'd gone from relaxed to wound up so quickly that her voice almost wasn't coming out right. "He's new in town and I've waited on him at the diner a few times. He's a nice man who happens to live a couple of houses down from us, that's all there is to it. There's no need to go adding your special Merle flair to anything."

Merle chuckled.

"What'cha doin' gettin' so damn bent outta shape about if ain't nothin' more to it than ya just happened on each other?" Merle asked. "I've seen a lil' bit a' how the good people a' Sweet Junction welcome their newcomers."

Carol gritted her teeth.

"What's that supposed to mean, Merle?" She asked.

Merle didn't say anything. He just chuckled and continued tinkering.

"You know," Carol said. "I wouldn't get bent out of shape about anything if I didn't think you were liable to be an asshole about things. You saw all the excitement there was to see about that interaction, so don't go playing at being one of the town gossips and making things into what they're not."

Merle shook his head and sucked his teeth again, obviously amused.

"Ya got some fire, Mouse…I'll give ya that," Merle said. "Ya gon' tell my brothah 'bout'cha lil' friend?"

Carol huffed.

"Sure, Merle, I can tell him about Axel. I don't usually go through my day telling Daryl about every single soul that I speak to, but if it'll make you sleep better tonight I'll be sure to tell him. I'm going to finish putting my yard back together now, unless there's something else you'd like to discuss?" Carol said.

Merle shook his head.

"I ain't got nothin' else ta say," Merle said.

Carol turned and stomped through the house, going back out the side door to take out her frustrations on the rake and the torn up yard. Merle Dixon could make anyone want to go running and screaming and the thing that frustrated her most about him was the manner in which he did things. It wasn't that he was some kind of yelling, screaming asshole. She knew how to deal with that type better. It was more that he was smug about things. He'd adopt a certain tone of voice that just made you want to gauge his eyes out.

Carol very nearly destroyed the rake that she had, though she attempted to keep any noises to herself. If Merle was watching her he would know that he had gotten under her skin and she was irritated by him, but she didn't want to alert him to it if he was actually paying attention to the stupid motorcycle.

She knew there wasn't really anything she could do about it either. He was Daryl's brother and if she pitched a fit about his presence or told him that he couldn't keep his bike there until he was done with it, if in fact he ever even finished whatever he was doing to the thing, then he would make her life a living hell if it was possible.

And though Carol thought that Daryl did love her and she hoped that he could see through Merle, most of her doubted his ability to get past what his brother said. Merle had proved in the past that he knew how to manipulate Daryl and he knew how to get into his head. Somehow the man had some kind of key to Daryl's psyche and when it was amusing to him he used it to do whatever he wanted.

She didn't know if it was hormones that made her feel the way she did, or if it was actual observation, but she felt sometimes like Merle didn't like her. She felt like he didn't like the relationship that she was working on building with Daryl. She didn't know if it was some kind of hidden and deep rooted jealousy issue…perhaps that Merle wanted the same thing but didn't have the balls to commit to it…or if it was something else, but she worried that Merle was always going to be there watching her and waiting for her to make some kind of mistake that he could point out to Daryl to try to pull Daryl out of her life again.

Carol felt she'd done enough damage on the yard when she realized that her efforts to repair the yard were actually resulting in her angry swiping making much of it worse. She walked to the fence, shooting a look in Merle's direction. He was oblivious to the world. She put the rake over the side of the fence and decided to leave it leaning there since she didn't want to walk through the carport and put it away again forcing her to have more interaction with the man whose throat she'd tear out right now if given half a chance.

She slipped inside, letting Lincoln trail after her and leave his muddy paw prints all over the floor, and she started dinner. She'd never been a drinking woman, but if it hadn't been for the baby, she might have considered it at the moment.

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Daryl pulled into the driveway with Andrea right behind him. She'd followed him through town most of the way and they'd been playing a, perhaps reckless, game of teasing each other on the back roads. As he crawled out the truck he waved at her, seeing that she clearly was just picking up Merle and had no intention of getting out of her vehicle.

Merle came walking down the driveway toward the car.

"How's ya bike lookin'?" Daryl asked.

"Ehh…shit'll be right soon," Merle said. "The fuck is up with the damn pumpkins by ya door?" Merle asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Carol wanted to paint pumpkins an' Miss Jo sent her them ta paint. We ain't artists but they ain't turned out too damn bad," Daryl said. He glanced toward the house expecting Carol to step out the side door, but she didn't come out.

Merle shook his head and looked at Daryl with the normal disapproving look he got when Daryl did anything that wasn't Merle-like. Daryl chuckled at him, not even needing to hear what his brother probably had to say about the pussy ass practice of painting pumpkins with a woman.

"I swear ya fuckin' ass is adopted," Merle said. He started to walk toward the vomit green car where Andrea was waiting in the driver's seat. Daryl glanced back at her and watched a second as she pulled her hair up and fixed her ponytail.

"Just got the fuckin' brains a' the family," Daryl said. "They was a whole lotta that shit leftover 'cause you sure as shit didn't take none."

Merle punched him in the shoulder enough to smart a little and went on down the driveway without saying anything else. Daryl walked up to the carport and circled around the bike a moment. He stopped to pick up the tools that Merle had left scattered about and drop them back in his toolbox. Merle pissed him off about his tools sometimes. He'd just leave them laying any damn where he pleased and he'd caused Daryl to lose a good number of things over the years. Daryl looked around and noticed the rake was leaning against the fence. He didn't know who had been raking, since their yard was really more of a wasteland than a yard thanks to Lincoln, but he decided to put it up.

On his way into the house he stopped a moment, looking at the little pumpkin family they'd painted. It wasn't no award winning artwork, and his pumpkin looked a little drunk, but he didn't think it was too damn bad. He opened the door and stepped inside, toeing off his shoes just as he came in.

Lincoln came bounding to him and he rubbed the dog as he rolled over and over trying to make sure that every angle got touched.

Carol was setting the table and Daryl could smell evidence of a dinner that had his stomach growling already. His sandwiches from lunch were long gone and he didn't realize it quite so sharply as he did when he smelled the food.

"Smells pretty damn good in here," Daryl said. "What the hell'd ya make?"

"Nothing special," Carol said. "Pork, rice, vegetables. Something quick. I wasn't really in the mood to cook."

Daryl could tell by her demeanor that something was wrong. She walked into the kitchen to start fixing plates and didn't even look at him, less likely offer him a customary kiss hello. He furrowed his brow in response.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Carol said. He watched her as she dipped out a plate. The clatter of the spoons on the plates was loud enough that he thought she might break something just by dipping the food out. When she took one of the plates to the table and was moving at almost a jog, he stifled a laugh.

"Fuck is wrong with ya?" Daryl asked. "An' don't tell me nothin' 'cause ya don't move that fuckin' fast on a regular basis."

"Sit down, it's time to eat," Carol responded.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"Alright, then, I reckon ya can tell me over dinner," Daryl said.

Daryl took his seat at the table and waited for Carol. When she finally sat down with his plate he started to eat.

"Now ya gonna tell me why ya breathin' so damn hard ya almost pantin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him and her eyes almost burned through him. He hoped that whatever it was wasn't something he was responsible for.

"We have a new neighbor," Carol said. "His name is Axel and he lives a few houses over. I've waited on him a few times at the diner."

Daryl nodded. He couldn't figure out what this neighbor might have done to piss her off like he had, but Daryl was starting to worry that he might have to go and have a talk with this man.

"He do somethin' to ya?" Daryl asked. "Food's good, by the way…"

Carol shook her head.

"He's a nice guy," she said. "And thanks."

Daryl chuckled. He couldn't control it any longer. He knew he was supposed to expect mood swings and everything else that the horror stories were made of that everyone told him about Carol being pregnant, but he didn't quite know what he was supposed to do with this. She looked like she was pissed as hell and as far as he could tell at the moment it was over a nice guy who lived a few doors down and had a hankering to eat at Lula's from time to time.

"So what's up under your skin?" Daryl asked.

"He came by here walking his dog and we had a conversation about his house and the dogs," Carol said.

Daryl shrugged.

"So I gotta whip his ass for somethin' or ya gettin' ta that part a' the story?" Daryl asked. He got up from the table, realizing there was nothing to drink, and went into the kitchen to get glasses and fix them both something.

"No, you don't have to do anything, Daryl," Carol said. She sighed. "I just wanted you to hear it from me in case anyone in Sweet Junction might have seen us talking and wants to make it into more than it is."

"An' that's why ya pissed?" Daryl asked.

He wasn't really sure what she was pissed about. He didn't know if he was supposed to react a certain way to this story or not. He carried the glasses back over and put one down in front of her. She thanked him and slid it over to the other side of her plate. He sat down and looked at her. She was obviously still stewing in whatever juices she'd been boiling in when he came through the door, but she looked a little calmer.

"I'm not pissed," Carol said. "It's nothing. I just wanted you to know that so that if people were to start running their mouths then you'd know they're full of hot air."

The pouty tone of her voice almost made Daryl laugh again, but he pinched his own side to keep from doing it. He nodded his head a little.

"OK," he said. "I'll…uh…keep it in mind. Anythin' else I might need ta know?"

Carol shook her head, a little of the red leaving her cheeks now.

"How was your day?" She asked with a sigh.

Daryl moved his left hand under the table again and pinched himself again so as to not laugh at her.

"A hell of a lot better than yours, I reckon," he said. "Got headbutted a couple a' times an' I damn near busted my ass comin' 'cross the field without lookin', but ain't too damn much gone on."

Carol nodded.

"My day was fine, really," she said. Her voice was calmer now. "I just don't want…well…I don't want you getting the wrong idea about things and thinking that I'm doing anything with anyone or that there's anything you don't know about that you need to know about."

Daryl wrinkled his forehead. Honestly that would have been about the last thing he would have thought about Carol.

"I weren't gon' think nothin' like that," Daryl said. "But I'm glad ya told me so I know if someone starts yappin'."

Carol nodded a little at him and focused on her food. Daryl turned his own attention to his plate. It appeared, at least for the moment, that whatever had her more stirred up than a hornet's nest in a tornado had died down for the moment. Daryl shook his head to himself. He was a little worried, though, about cookie jar time. He didn't know how long that mood had been brewing, but it may have been long enough for her to go through about a pad and a half of tiny paper slips for him to justify after dinner. He decided that he'd do good to have an extra helping of dinner and maybe of dessert too. He might need to go into jar time tonight on a full stomach and… judging from the looks of Carol… a chair and a whip might not hurt either.


	80. Chapter 80

**AN: Hi everyone! Sorry it's been a couple of days on this one. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. As always, I appreciate very much hearing from you, so let me know what you think! **

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The sound of pounding on the door in the middle of the night, coupled with Lincoln almost launching himself from the bed and clattering down the stairs and through the house to bay at the door snatched Carol rudely out of her sleep. For a moment she sat in the bed, the noise continuing and struggled with the accompanying disorientation.

Finally she came to her senses and threw back the cover, getting up and finding her oversized t shirt thrown over the post at the foot of the bed. She pulled it on, not caring if it was inside out or even facing the right direction. She started through the house, Daryl stirring as well.

As Carol walked through the kitchen toward the door, the sound of Daryl's feet pounding on the floor caught up with her and he grabbed her by the shoulder, snatching her back a little.

"Fuck ya doin'?" He spat.

"I'm going to see who's at the door," Carol answered back, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Ya don't open the fuckin' door in the middle of the night!" Daryl said. "I'll get it, and it better be damn important!" He said, his voice raising as he closed in on the door. He looked through the peephole, but Carol knew it was too dark to see anything since he hadn't bothered to switch on the light to the carport. Daryl unlocked the door and pushed Lincoln back with his foot as he cracked it open. Carol stood to the side, scratching an itch on her leg and wondering what was going on that would have someone beating on the door at the ungodly hour.

Daryl yanked the door open and slid Lincoln back with his foot hard enough that the dog's toenails lost their traction and he sailed back at least a foot.

A moment later Andrea came through the door, a box under her arm. She didn't speak until she was inside and Daryl had shut the door and locked it.

"Fuck ya doin' here in the middle a' the damn night?" Daryl asked, scrubbing at his eyes with his fist.

Andrea glanced at him and then at Carol. She was wearing jeans and an oversized button up shirt and Carol realized she didn't have any shoes on.

"Can I just stay here tonight?" She asked. "Just for the night."

"What's goin' on?" Daryl asked.

"Sure, you can stay here," Carol said. "We don't have furniture in any of the extra rooms, but the couch is yours if you need it."

Andrea directed her attention toward Carol and nodded in her direction, only slightly visible in the darkness of the kitchen.

"Thanks," she said softly, "I appreciate it."

Andrea pushed past Daryl and went into the living room dropping her box near the couch and immediately sitting down on the piece of furniture. Carol went to get her the one extra pillow that they had and a blanket out of the linen closet. Daryl remained firmly planted near the door.

"What's goin' on?" He repeated.

Carol gave Andrea the pillow and blanket and walked over to Daryl, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Why don't you go back to bed?" She said. "It's late and we can all get some sleep. Andrea can explain in the morning if she feels like it."

Andrea whispered a thanks and Carol heard the shuffling around of Andrea getting situated on the couch. It was apparent, also, that Lincoln had already selected this as his newly desired place to sleep and would be keeping the woman company for the few hours that they all would have left to sleep.

Daryl reluctantly shuffled forward and back in the direction of the bedroom fron whence he had recently come, the excitement over for the moment. Carol followed behind him and crawled immediately into bed, not paying much attention to whether or not he was in bed as quickly as he'd gotten out of it.

She didn't know why Andrea had shown up in the middle of the night with a box of her things and needed to sleep on their couch, but Carol wasn't going to press and she wasn't going to turn her away. Andrea always explained herself, but this wasn't the hour for explanations.

Carol felt Daryl's arm go around her and close tightly around her ribcage, jarring her a little as he tugged her toward him. He was snoring before she could even think to go back to sleep and she imagined that he'd hardly been fully awake for the entire event. She closed her eyes, determined to get some kind of rest in the hours that remained before what was typically a rude wake up call.

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Daryl woke up and groaned. Carol was up…of course she was up. He could vaguely remember that Andrea had showed up at the house the night before, but it almost seemed like a dream. There wasn't much that was clear about it in his memory beyond the fact that she had come, they'd shared some sort of exchange, and he imagined that when he made his way through the house she'd be there.

Daryl got out of the bed, still wearing his boxers from where he hadn't bothered to take them off after Andrea's arrival, and stepped into the bathroom.

"Need somethin'?" He asked Carol, yawning.

Her groan told him no and a glance at the clock told him it wasn't quite time for her to need anything except for him to leave her alone and keep Lincoln out of the bathroom. He passed through the house and looked for the dog, finally finding him on his back pretending to be a teddy bear for Andrea who was either asleep or dead on the couch.

"Lincoln, let's go piss," Daryl hissed at the dog. He needed to go to the other bathroom, but he wanted to let the dog out before he decided to turn the living room into the Mississippi River. Lincoln didn't stir. "Lincoln! Let's go!" Daryl said, raising his voice. The dog did turn his head a little in Daryl's direction, but made no other movement to obey. "Stay the fuck there then," Daryl said. "Gonna obey me one damn way or the other."

Daryl stepped into the hall bath, relieved himself, and when he was done he went into the kitchen, switched on the coffee pot and loaded bread in the toaster for Carol.

Finally he shuffled over the couch where Andrea was sleeping and pushed at her shoulder. She moaned but didn't move. Daryl had only woken the blonde a few times when he lived with her and he knew that Andrea was difficult to wake when she wasn't in the mood to get up. He pushed at her again.

"Gotta wake up," he said. He really didn't know if she had to wake up or not. She might have a day off that he didn't know about, and if that was the case then he was waking her unnecessarily, but if she had somewhere to be then she'd probably be pissed if he let her sleep right on through it.

Daryl continued to harass Andrea until finally she stirred and sat up, her hair webbed over her face. For a moment she looked as though she had no idea where she was, how she'd ended up there, who Daryl was, or even how she'd acquired the furry teddy bear that was Lincoln who was still flopped on his back beside her.

After a moment, though, realization crept across her face and she squinted her eyebrows, running her hand through her hair and pushing it back.

"What time is it?" She asked.

"Time for ya ta get up if ya workin' today," Daryl said.

Andrea sat up and Lincoln rolled over. Now he was interested in going outside and he moved to his steps and descended them, looking at Daryl with expectation.

Daryl started toward the door to let the dog out in the yard.

"Where's Carol?" Andrea asked, squealing out a yawn from the couch.

"Dyin'," Daryl said. "She'll resurrect herself in just a lil' bit. Ya want somethin' ta eat?"

Andrea got up from the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of orange juice without responding to him. He stood by the door waiting on Lincoln to finish his rounds and watched Andrea.

"I can make pancakes," Andrea said. She chuckled a little. "Just like old times."

Daryl didn't feel like turning down pancakes. These mornings he didn't push Carol to make breakfast and she seldom volunteered. Beyond toast or cereal, he didn't get much in the mornings. He figured it was enough that Carol still made him lunch, even though she looked like she was turning green the entire time she made his sandwiches. He just assumed asking for pancakes might be a bit much.

"Ain't gon' turn my nose up at 'em," Daryl said. He let the dog back and dug him a treat from his jar without any pomp and circumstance, though most mornings he required the dog to at least look sufficiently excited about it.

Andrea dug around in the kitchen while Daryl leaned against the bar watching her.

"Ya gonna tell us why ya here?" He asked finally.

"Oh…" Andrea said, setting to work making the pancakes. "Hmm…" she hummed. "Well that's easy enough. I'm here because your brother's an asshole and I didn't think it would be nice to wake Michonne and both her kids up in the middle of the night."

"So ya came here an' woke us up?" Daryl asked.

And somewhat glared at him over her shoulder.

"I'm making your stupid pancakes," she said. "Shut up before I poison them."

Daryl chuckled.

"Not that I ain't known already that my brother's an asshole," Daryl said, "but what'd he do this time?"

Andrea shook her head and sighed. Daryl thought she looked pretty well exhausted and he wondered how much she had slept before she arrived on their couch.

"Doesn't matter," she said. "Basically he told me to get the fuck out, so I did."

Daryl bit at his cuticle. Since he'd known Andrea, he knew that Merle had told her to get the fuck out about nine thousand times, and that was only when he was listening. It was something Merle said with almost the same regularity that Daryl told Carol he loved her. In fact, Daryl was starting to suspect that in whatever language that Merle spoke it might mean the same damn thing.

"Ain't the first damn time he's told ya ta get the fuck out," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled and shook her head. Daryl could tell she wasn't fully awake because she moaned a little against her own exhaustion.

"No…no the first time," she said, "but it's the last damn time."

Daryl wasn't sure what to respond. He didn't know the circumstances behind Andrea's self-eviction, but he was sure he was going to find out what the hell happened. He scratched his head.

"I gotta go check on Carol," he said. "Ya gonna be OK?"

"Go on," Andrea said. "I'm fine. Your food'll be ready when you get back."

Daryl made his way through the house and toward the bathroom. He found Carol already up and rinsing her mouth out over the sink, leaning on it with one palm supporting her. She looked up at him and eyed him through the mirror.

"Ya OK?" He asked.

Carol nodded and wiped her face with the hand towel.

"I think I'll live," she said. "Everything alright with Andrea?"

Daryl shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "She's makin' somethin' for breakfast. Ya don't gotta eat it if ya don't want none."

Carol snickered.

"Thanks…I don't want any," she said. She turned around and switched the light off, coming toward him and wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back and rubbed his hands up and down her back for a moment as she swayed against him. "Did she say what happened?" Carol asked.

"Just said Merle was bein' an asshole an' told her ta get the fuck out so now she's here," Daryl said.

"Sounds about right," Carol said. She pulled slowly away from Daryl and then started through the house. "Merle is an asshole," she said as she walked.

"Hear, hear!" Andrea called, putting a plate of pancakes on the dining room table. Carol chuckled. Daryl went straight to the table and slid the plate to his customary seat, sitting down and thanking Andrea before he started eating.

"Ya shirt's on backwards," he called to Carol.

"Don't care," Carol responded, making her way toward the coffee pot.

"Didn't reckon ya did, but don't want'cha ta care an' then call me an asshole too," he said.

Both women chuckled in response, not realizing that he was at least somewhat serious about the statement.

"So what did the charming Merle Dixon do?" Carol asked. She offered Andrea a mug for coffee and then poured another one which she brought and sat in front of Daryl. Daryl looked at the mug of black coffee and considered asking for cream and sugar before he finally decided to get up and get it himself. If he was about to be caught in the middle of two women discussing the asshole actions of men, he didn't want to fall victim to anything that might fill his cookie jar up for the evening.

"It's stupid…" Andrea said. "Or rather what started it is stupid. Basically we started fighting last night…and I don't even remember what we started fighting about. But it turned into a game of let me tell you everything I hate about you and the next thing I know he's launched into one of his famous Merle speeches about the evils of women," Andrea changed her tone of voice and waved her free hand around to imitate how she saw Merle as acting when he launched into one of his speeches. "So when he gets done I called him on his bullshit." She shrugged and took a drink from her coffee mug. "He told me to go fuck myself and to get the hell out…and I'm tired of hearing it…so I got the hell out."

Carol nodded knowingly. Daryl didn't say anything. He stuck to eating his pancakes. The report sounded like a typical night with Merle when he was in a mood. Unfortunately for Merle, or fortunately for him, depending on whether or not you believed the philosophies that he vomited, last night he had finally managed to shake Andrea.

Whether or not she would stay away, Daryl thought, that was still to be determined.

"Ya really leavin' him? Like for good?" Daryl asked, finally.

Andrea nodded.

"I'm really done," she said. "Unless Merle Dixon comes to find me and he comes with one hell of an apology, I'm done."

Carol reached over and rubbed Andrea's shoulder, squeezing it a little.

"Well you're welcome to stay here as long as you need to," Carol said. "It's not much, but the bed is all yours."

"Thanks," Andrea said. "I'm sure it won't be more than a couple of days. I just need to find somewhere that's renting. I don't want to rent in that building. I don't want to look at his face every damn day if I can avoid it."

"Ya know he ain't meant it," Daryl offered. "Why don't'cha just go make nice with him an' then ya ain't gotta drop a couple hundred bucks for a place ta rent."

"I don't want to make nice with him, Daryl," Andrea responded. She put her hand on her hip and Daryl saw a bit of sour attitude wash over the blonde. "You know, until you and your brother rolled into town I was just fine on my own. I'll be just fine on my own again. That's what fucking Merle Dixon never realized. I don't need his ass. I'll find a place to stay and I'll be just fine…just like it's always been."

Carol put a reassuring hand on Andrea.

"Don't worry about finding a place right away. Take your time. You're not imposing here. If we had a bed in one of the other rooms you could just stay here. It's not like we have tons of company passing through that need a guest room," Carol said.

"You're sweet," Andrea said. "I appreciate it, I really do. I just need a couple of days to figure out what to do and to get my ducks in a row. I promise that I'm going to try to stay out of your way and everything. I just need…I just need a couple of days."

Carol nodded.

"Don't worry about it, Andrea. We've all been in situations like this. You'll get back on your feet in no time and until you find a place you just relax. This is your home too. Isn't that right, Daryl?" Carol said.

Daryl finished the last of the pancakes and washed them down with part of the cooling cup of coffee before he bothered to respond.

"Damn straight," he said. He got up to take his plate to the sink.

The truth of the matter was that he wasn't thrilled with having Andrea camp out on their couch, but he could tolerate it and he certainly wasn't going to be the asshole that told her she couldn't stay there because he did know what it felt like to be in a situation where you needed somewhere to go, just until you got things figured out.

He also hoped, honestly, that he could get ahold of Merle somehow today and have a talk with him. Maybe he could work something out. Perhaps the situation wasn't as dire as it seemed. After all, everything looked worse in the middle of the night after a long fight than it did the next day. Perhaps things could be smoothed over and Daryl could see Andrea happily headed off to live with Merle again and leave their couch vacant for Lincoln and Lincoln alone.

"You guys are the best," Andrea said with a smile. She swiped at her eyes. "Do you mind if I take a shower?" She asked.

"No, you can use either bathroom you want, but we're in and out the master bath," Carol said, "so the hall bath might be better. Just grab towels out the hall closet and help yourself."

Andrea thanked her and patted Daryl on the chest, smiling, as she walked by. He waited until she had her towel and stepped in the bathroom to turn to Carol.

"Ya know I gotta talk ta Merle," he said. He sighed.

Carol made a face.

"Good luck with that," she said, snickering. "I'm just glad it's you and not me. He may have actually fucked up this time, though."

Daryl narrowed his eyebrows.

"Merle's fucked up plenty a' times," Daryl said.

"Maybe," Carol responded. "But this time he may have fucked up good enough to lose Andrea. If he doesn't want that, though, I hope his knees are in pretty good condition."

Daryl chuckled and pulled Carol to him. She put her face against his chest and he closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the feeling as she rubbed her cheek against him. He pulled away slightly and tipped her face up with his finger, kissing her and exchanging flavors with her.

"Mmm…" she said when they broke apart. "Sweet."

She smiled at him and winked.

"Damn straight I'm sweet, woman," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled in response.

"See if some of that won't rub off on your brother," she said.

"I know," Daryl said. "I'ma see if I can't leave Hershel's a bit early and try ta catch him 'fore he gets off work an' can do somethin' stupid like run off ta the fuckin' Water Ho an' try ta drown himself."

Carol nodded her understanding at him.

"Eat'cha toast, woman," Daryl said. "Feed my damn kid. I got ta worry 'bout Merle's sorry ass today so I don't need ta be worryin' that'cha gon' black ya ass out somewhere."

Carol chuckled.

"I'm working at Michonne's," she said. "Do you really think she's not going to make sure I eat something?"

Now it was Daryl's turn to chuckle. Carol had told him, and he hadn't believed it at first, but now he kind of did, that Michonne set an alarm on a watch and made Carol eat at least something every two hours while she was at work.

"Fine," Daryl said. "Eat at least one piece, though."

"Deal," Carol said. She went toward the toaster to get her toast and Daryl excused himself toward the bedroom to get dressed for work. It seemed like he might have his work cut out for him today, and he was thinking that Hershel's cows were going to be the more agreeable part of his day.


	81. Chapter 81

**AN: Here's a little update for you. **

**You're all cracking me up about Merle. Maybe our eldest Dixon can get his act together sometime in the future? We can only hope for the best for our boy because he just isn't doing so swift right now.**

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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Daryl had a pretty good feeling it was going to be one long ass evening when he went to Merle's workplace and found out from Tyreese that Merle never showed up for work. He'd made some half ass apologies to the man, glad that he was as easy going as he was and not likely to fire Merle that shit like someone else might have, and then he tried to decide what to do.

Andrea wasn't working at the Watering Hole that night. He'd already checked and knew that she was pushing Korean food at the good people of Sweet Junction instead of aiding their intoxication. He could, then, possibly find Merle at the bar or find him at his apartment. Daryl decided to try the apartment first.

Daryl didn't bother knocking. He fished the extra key out of his pocket that he had to the place and let himself inside. Immediately he noticed that the table was on its side on the floor, but other than that the apartment seemed more or less intact. Merle was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs holding a bottle that was a little less than half full and Daryl wanted to pull his hair out at the sight.

"Ain't this a lovely fuckin' mess," Daryl growled, stepping inside and shutting the door. The last damn thing he really wanted was to deal with his brother drunk. Merle hadn't drank in a while, and Daryl had kind of liked it that way. He could be a surly asshole all on his own and he didn't need the aid of the amber liquid.

Merle chuckled at Daryl. It was the slurred and sleepy chuckle that let Daryl know that Merle had likely been saturating his remaining brain cells for most of the day while the rest of the world had been at work trying to earn a buck.

"Fuck ya want, Derlina?" Merle slurred.

"What the hell ya doin', Merle?" Daryl asked, making a wide circle and sitting on the arm of the couch looking at his brother. "Ya gone an' got fucked up? I reckon this is over Andrea. Ya ain't even gone ta work today."

"Fuck Andrea," Merle responded.

Daryl clenched his jaw. It was really all he could do at the moment not to cross the room, take the bottle out of his older brother's hand, and smash him over the head with it. Daryl would, however, only let himself imagine the action instead of going through with it.

"Why don't'cha just fuckin' say ya sorry 'bout whatever ya was fightin' 'bout? Stop tellin' her ya fuckin' hate her an' stop tellin' her ta get the fuck outta ya life. From where I sit I reckon she's 'bout been the best thing ta happen ta ya sorry ass," Daryl said.

"Who the fuck are you now, brothah?" Merle asked, a sneer crossing his face. "The motherfuckin' love doctor? Just 'cause ya pussed out an' found ya some lil' dolly ta play house with ya? I seen all the fuckin' shit ya doin' with that bitch. Just handed ya fuckin' balls right over, didn't'cha? Didn't even put up no fight."

Now it was Daryl's turn to chuckle, though the chuckle that escaped him was one that he let out more to keep from killing his alcohol sodden brother than a genuine laugh.

"Ya know what the fuck I know, Merle? I know that I got me a woman that I fuckin' love…" Daryl said. He paused for a minute and took in the expression that spread across Merle's face. Daryl nodded his head. "That's right…I fuckin' love her, an' I got the balls ta say it, so I reckon I ain't handed 'em over as ya say. An' she's there every fuckin' mornin' I wake up, an' she's there every fuckin' night I go ta bed. Ain't no damn rock star lifestyle, but it's a helluva lot better than some a' the shit I've had in my life. What you got, Merle? 'Cause right now ya girl's sleepin' on my couch."

"Ain't got no damn girl," Merle said, tipping the bottle up and taking a mouthful before swallowing loudly and hissing at the burning contents.

"That's right," Daryl said. "Ya ain't. Ain't got jack shit 'cause ya too damn busy thinkin' it makes ya some kinda fuckin' hero ta say ya don't give one hot damn 'bout nobody. Fuck you, Merle. If ya didn't fuckin' care ya wouldn't be fuckin' sauced right now. Ya quit this shit an' now ya right back on that fuckin' bottle like a baby on a teat 'cause Andrea got sick a' ya shit."

"Don't'cha get mouthy an' fuckin' self-righteous with me, Daryl," Merle said, standing up. "Andrea left 'cause she wanted ta fuckin' leave. Ain't beggin' no damn whore to stick around."

Daryl stood up from his spot and stepped back a few paces. He had no doubt that if anything in this conversation was going to lead to blows he'd have no problem taking Merle down. Sometimes in the past Merle had gotten the best of him, but he was sober and that meant he certainly had the upper had at the moment no matter what other circumstances were considered.

"Ya know she ain't no damn whore, Merle. She's got her shit…an' she fuckin' carries her shit too…just like the rest a' us, but Andrea ain't no damn whore an' she ain't done ya wrong not once since I knowed her. Reckon a' damn asshole like yaself can't ask for too damn much more," Daryl said. He paused and side stepped away from Merle to put more distance between them. He wasn't worried about a fight but that didn't mean he wanted one either. "'Sides, if ya believed a damn thing ya ever fuckin' said ya wouldn't have ta drink that shit just ta make ya own words go down."

"Where ya runnin' too, Daryl?" Merle asked. He tottered to the side and put his hand on the wall and Daryl couldn't help but wince at the thought that he couldn't even keep upright on his own damn feet without assistance, but still his mouth worked fine. That's always how it was with Merle and that was the reason he got in so many damn bad situations in his life. Nothing seemed to ever stop his mouth besides someone's fist.

"Don't wanna fight with ya, Merle," Daryl said, shaking his head at his brother. "Just ain't got no damn interest in it."

Daryl knew as soon as Merle clenched his jaw the way he did that Merle was about to lash out at him. No matter how many times in his life he'd seen it happen, though, he never knew quite how to be ready to fend off an attack.

"Ya like a fuckin' ostrich boy, with ya head stuck in the damn sand," Merle said. "What'cha think ya got any damn way? Ya lil' woman's fuckin' 'round on ya right in front a' ya damn face an' ya don't even know it. Got'cha eatin' out her fuckin' hand 'cause she tells she's knocked up an' ya don't even know if she really fuckin' is or if it's even ya damn kid. Prob'ly belongs ta that police fella she was fuckin'…or that fella she's fuckin' right under ya damn nose…but'cha always wanted ya pot a gold ta piss in. Damn whore's the best ya gonna get Daryl…best I'ma fuckin' get too 'cause we ain't worth more than that," Merle spat. He drank out of his bottle and stepped closer to Daryl. "Least I'm smart enough ta realize that bein' without the bitch is better than bowin' my ass down an' lettin' some whore think she's got me by the balls…but you done got 'em both now…turn ya damn back on ya own brothah?"

Daryl really didn't mean to punch Merle in the nose, not entirely. He'd really only thought it would be a fleeting mental image like breaking the bottle over his head, but when Merle landed hard on his back on the floor and Daryl felt the pain shoot through his knuckles, he was almost surprised to see his brother was still moving.

Merle rolled around on the floor, his hand pressed over his nose. When he rose up enough, Daryl could tell that he obviously wasn't going to suffer anything too severe from the punch, but he thought he'd possibly broken his nose and in the moment he thought it was good enough for Merle.

"Fuck ya do that for?" Merle growled.

Daryl shook his head at his brother and walked close enough to him that he could see him but not close enough that Merle could retaliate. He'd get off the floor eventually, but it wouldn't be fast enough for Daryl not to side step away from him.

"Serves ya fuckin' right!" Daryl spat at him. "Damn it! Ya too big a damn pussy ta fix ya own fuckin' life that's one damn thing but'cha stay the fuck outta mine if ya can't act like ya the damn sense God gave mud. Ya runnin' fuckin' scared a' somethin' an' ya gon' be damn sorry when someone that ain't as big a pussy as you are steps in an' gets it. I ain't sorry for ya, Merle! Ya wanna lay in the dirt feelin' sorry for yaself then do it. I'm done with this shit!"

Daryl didn't wait for Merle to respond. His blood was pumping to a point that he felt like if he heard Merle's voice even another minute he was likely to kill him. Daryl turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him and leaving his brother on the floor with his bloody nose and his spilled bottle of liquid comfort.

Daryl couldn't get the anger he felt under control. He could almost feel it coursing through him like liquid fire and he didn't know how to outrun it. Merle's words, whether he believed them or not, always got to him and he wished, for just a moment, that he had the ability to go back and unhear everything he'd ever heard come out of Merle's mouth.

As Daryl pulled in the driveway he realized he was shaking and he felt too angry to go inside. He was mad at Merle. He was mad at everything that had ever happened to make Merle like he was. He was angry at the fact that his brother had gone back to drinking and that life had taught him that he'd do better to blaze the road in front of him lighting every damn thing on fire as he came to it so he wouldn't feel sad when it was gone. He wouldn't feel like it had been taken away from him because he'd been the one to torch it.

And Daryl was furious with Merle for not ever trying to overcome one damn thing in his sorry life. He was mad that Merle would rather continue living like they'd always fucking lived then just put one sorry ass foot in front of the other and see if he couldn't walk his way right out of his personal hell.

But more than anything at the moment he was pissed at the fact that Merle knew his damn buttons and had no shame in pushing them. He'd always done that…go straight for the throat. His motto wasn't so much if you can't beat 'em, join 'em as it was if you don't know if you can join 'em better to bring 'em down to your level.

Daryl got out the truck and stormed up the driveway. He wished for just a little while that he would walk through the door and find the whole damn house empty. He didn't want to answer questions and he didn't want to talk about the fact that he had blood on his hand he was pretty sure came from his brother's broken nose. He just wanted to take a shower and forget everything that Merle spat at him like the drunken asshole he was. He wanted to go to sleep and start the next day without even feeling like he'd been through this one.

Except when he opened the door he wasn't alone. Andrea and Carol were sitting on the couch talking and Lincoln came running to him as soon as he opened the door. In frustration, Daryl slid the dog out of his way with his foot and started toward the bedroom, hoping that if he moved quickly enough he could avoid any question about the interaction that had taken place.

He stomped into the bedroom and stripped off his clothes as he walked, nearly bringing himself to the ground in his furious efforts to get his shoes and pants off without even stopping his walk toward the bathroom. He turned the shower on and finished stripping out of his clothes just as Carol stepped into the doorway.

"What happened? Did you talk to Merle?" She asked.

"Don't wanna fuckin' talk about it right now," Daryl spat.

Carol's hand touched on the back of his shoulder and he didn't turn around to look at her for the moment. He held his hands up to indicate his frustration.

"What happened? Daryl, you're bleeding…" Carol said.

"Ain't my blood an' I said I don't wanna talk about it so just take ya ass back in there with Andrea," Daryl said.

"Where is he?" Carol asked. "Is everything alright?"

Daryl turned around.

"Damn it, Carol Ann!" Daryl spat. "I wanta take a fuckin' shower an' I don't wanta talk about fuckin' Merle! I just need some fuckin' space without ya breathin' down my neck for a few minutes! Take ya ass back in there with Andrea!"

Daryl put his hand on her chest and backed her out the bathroom closing the door in her face. He didn't need to talk about this right this minute. He didn't even know what the hell he'd say if he tried to talk about it. All he needed was a few damn minutes to get his shit together and to calm down without having to feel like he was caught up in a never ending game of twenty questions.

Daryl got under the spray of the water and just stood there. He didn't know how long he stood there, really. He stayed long enough that there wasn't hot water left when he finally got out, shivering, and that had never happened before.

Daryl towel dried off. He was calmer now than he had been, but he still didn't know what to do about his brother. He hadn't meant to break his nose, and he certainly hadn't meant for his own knuckles to pay the price, but sometimes that was the only damn way that you could get anything through to Merle. It was like the only language that the asshole really spoke.

Daryl stood there in the bathroom, naked, staring at himself in the mirror. The thing he hated most about Merle's situation was that he knew Merle…he knew why Merle felt the way that he did about things…but he didn't know how to help Merle get over that shit.

He didn't even really know if he was over that shit or if he was just playing some kind of game like Merle suggested. Maybe he wasn't good enough for anything that he thought he wanted out of life. Maybe he wasn't really designed for it. Maybe it would all blow up in his face if the bomb wasn't already ticking…but even if it was all a game it was one that he was enjoying playing for the moment.

He'd rather play the game for a while than go ahead and flip the board and call it done. He couldn't stop the end of the game from coming if it was coming, but he could at least take is turns until it was done.

Daryl knew that Merle was full of shit. He'd always been full of shit. His mouth made you want to kill him. It made you want to take a fucking Louisville Slugger to his skull and call it a day. But that's all it was…that's all it had ever been. It was just Merle running his fucking mouth. If he meant a word of it Daryl would have been pretty damn surprised.

And now Daryl knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Merle had gone and done something he'd sworn his entire life he'd never do. Merle gave a damn about Andrea.

It wasn't poetic and they sure as shit weren't printing it up on Valentine's Day cards…but if Dixons had their own Valentine's Day cards that would pretty much be what every damn one of them would say. I give a damn about you.

So Merle had done the only damn thing that Merle knew to do in the situation. He'd put his foot through his own damn cake because he terrified that somehow someone was going to take it away from him…he thought he was saving his ass the heartache, but what he didn't realize was that he'd still lost the cake. Whether by his own hands or by someone else's, the result was the same.

Except Andrea wasn't a cake and she wasn't a toy. Just because he threw her out didn't mean she was going to go away and it didn't mean that no one was going to ever pick her up again. Merle couldn't erase her just because he thought he didn't deserve her, no matter what he said, and Daryl knew it was going to drive Merle crazy if he had to see the only woman he'd ever known him to give a damn about in the arms of a man who knew how to admit that he was fine with being with Andrea and admitting it to anyone who cared to ask.

Daryl didn't know, though, what to say or do to make Merle realize that he was only hurting himself. He couldn't exactly ask Hershel to talk to him. Merle didn't listen any better than a brick wall. It would have been just as effective to try to have a conversation about love and relationships with Lincoln.

He was going to have to let Merle find out for himself what the hell was going on, and he was just going to have to hope that the stupid fucker didn't drink himself into a coma or land his sorry ass in prison for some stupid damn thing.

For the first time in his life, Daryl realized that it just had to be that the Dixon boys had to fly solo. He wouldn't turn his back on his brother, not like Merle had suggested he would, but he had to give Merle the room to find out he could stand on his own fucking feet. And he had to let him fall down and bust his ass over this one.

Daryl knew what it had felt like to him when he'd lost Carol. He knew that shit hurt and it felt like you weren't going to be whole again, but he'd found his balls and he'd gotten up and solved his problem. He only hoped that Merle could find his pair and do the same, but Daryl didn't imagine that shit was happening tonight.

With a deep sigh Daryl opened the bathroom door and stepped into the darkened bedroom, dressing with only the bathroom light as a guide.

He felt heavy and tired. He felt old and all he wanted to do was sink into bed and bury his face in Carol's neck and sleep. He wanted to forget about Merle…he wanted to forget about all the old damn feelings that seeing Merle like he was drudged up…he wanted to forget about the shit show that had been his life so far…and he wanted to forget about the things that Merle had said. He wanted to forget all of it and sleep.

But when Daryl pulled the cover back on the bed, Carol wasn't there.

And it washed over him. He'd been an asshole. He hadn't really meant to be an asshole, but he'd been one alright.

He'd yelled at her and he'd taken his anger out on her. He'd pushed her and he'd closed the door in his face. He'd taken out his frustration at Merle and every damn thing that meant on her…and he felt like an asshole.

The thing about feeling like an asshole, he thought as he stood looking at the empty bed, was that when he felt like an asshole…when it really dawned on him that the way he had acted constituted such poor behavior…it typically meant that he'd really gone all out.

Daryl squeezed at his temples and sighed in the darkness. He didn't bother looking at the clock because the last damn thing he cared about at this point was the time. He hadn't eaten dinner, he hadn't even unwound after work, nothing. Nothing about this day had gone at all like it was supposed to go.

It was probably too damn early to go to sleep, but the house was dark. Daryl walked through the house and switched the light on in the dining room so it would bathe the front part of the house in enough light for him to be able to see anything.

One glance at the couch told him that the women he was occupying a house with had decided that early or not they were going to bed. And if Daryl didn't feel like a first class asshole, and if he hadn't acted like he had, he would have laughed at the sight in front of him.

Carol and Andrea were lying on the couch. Either they were both asleep or they were pretending to be. Each had a head at one end of the couch and their bodies formed a pretzel like knot that was only visible in places poking out from under the blanket they had thrown over them. On top of them both, stretched out, like the fucking king of the mountain was Lincoln, and the furry little shit didn't even lift his head when Daryl bathed the area in light.

Daryl sighed.

He walked over to Carol's side of the couch and gently pushed at her shoulder, not entirely sure that he believed she was sleeping.

"Carol, get up, let's go ta bed," Daryl said. There was no response from Carol so he pushed at her shoulder and repeated his request.

"No," Carol said finally, her voice low. "I'm fine. You go to bed."

Daryl sighed. He deserved it and he knew it. He just wished, for just this once, that he could take some kind of rain check on this shit. He wished that he could just get her to say she wouldn't be pissed until morning and then they could work this shit out.

"Carol," he said, "let's go ta bed, please? Ya ain't fuckin' comfortable piled up here with Andrea."

"Turns out Andrea doesn't need a whole lot of space," Carol said, not moving. Daryl wasn't sure if she actually could move right now.

"Carol, I'm sorry, OK? I was a fuckin' asshole an' ya got all the right in the world ta be pissed at me. I'll sleep on the fuckin' floor if it makes ya happy just please bring ya ass ta bed an' let's talk about this shit tomorrow," Daryl said.

"Go to bed, Daryl," Carol said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, that's fine. Go to bed. I'm giving you the space of the whole bed for the night. Enjoy."

Daryl growled a little.

"Carol Ann ya get'cha ass off this couch an' go get in the damn bed or I swear ta ya I'm movin' ya myself," Daryl said. He was fine if she wanted to be pissed at him. Hell, he deserved it. He'd even invite her to be pissed at him, but he'd dealt with Merle's ass today and that was about all the catty childish shit he could handle in a twenty four hour period.

"Goodnight, Daryl," Carol said.

Daryl flung the cover back and, as quick as he could, Lincoln jumped ship, running down Andrea's face in the process. The women somewhat came apart, though both of them had taken obviously some sort of pact to remain as tightly tangled as possible and make anything Daryl attempted as difficult as they could.

Daryl really didn't feel like he knew a lot about women, but the one damn thing he'd have bet his nuts on was true was the fact they had some kind of pact to band together in shit that was punishable by death if they didn't honor it.

Daryl dug his hands down between what he hoped was Carol's body and the couch and hissed at the friction on his already tender knuckles. He lifted her up with the hope that gravity would eventually separate whatever belonged to Andrea from whatever belonged to Carol in the huge body pretzel that they had made.

Admittedly, he picked Carol up wrong and almost dropped her. She screamed out, causing the dog to bark and Andrea to break her silence on the matter.

"Leave her alone!" Andrea yelled at him.

"Shut the fuck up!" Daryl spat back. "Just go ya ass ta sleep. She'll be fuckin' fine if she stops bein' as hardheaded as a damn mule an' gets her ass in bed. If she's gonna act like she's five, though, then I'ma have ta treat her like she's five an' put her there."

Daryl put Carol's feet on the ground only long enough to shift her quickly and pick her up in a manner that he felt confident he could get her down the hall in.

"Put me down," she growled, fighting against him.

"Ya fight me an' I'ma drop ya an' I don't wanta drop ya," Daryl said. He walked by the light switch to the dining room and hit it with his shoulder, slightly ramming her feet into the wall and bathing Andrea in darkness whether she was ready to sleep or not.

Daryl deposited Carol on the bed and pushed her down with his hand, leaning close to her.

"Go ta sleep," he said, his face almost touching hers. She looked mad enough to spit. "I said I was an asshole and I swear ta ya I'm sorry an' we gon' talk about it an' I'ma do whatever fuckin' apologizin's gonna make ya happy, but I ain't doin' no more tonight. It's been one long ass fuckin' day an' I just wanta go ta sleep. Ya need ta sleep an' so do I, so just call it a fuckin' truce 'til mornin'. Ya think ya can handle that shit? For me?"

Carol continued to look at him like she might tear his nose off his face if given the chance. He could feel that she was breathing hard from where his hand was pressed against her chest. After a moment, though, she sighed and didn't look as angry as much as she looked hurt. He honestly preferred angry, but there wasn't much he felt like he could do about either until he at least closed his eyes for a bit.

"Stop pushing me," Carol said, her voice softer than it had been earlier.

Daryl lifted his hand off her chest.

"Sorry," he said. She rubbed her chest. He didn't know if she'd try to get up, but she grabbed her pillow and yanked it under her head. Daryl almost laughed at the very nature of her movements. He wrestled the cover out from under her and pulled it up over her. He went around and got in on his side of the bed after he flipped the bathroom light off.

"Can I touch ya or that off limits?" He asked.

Carol sighed.

"We're talking about this in the morning," she said.

Daryl sighed.

"I promise, we're talkin' 'bout this shit in the mornin'," he said. He felt defeated and was about to give up regardless. He sighed again and pulled his pillow under his head.

To his surprise, Carol scooted back, inching a little at a time, until she was backed against him, fitting her body against his. He hesitated a moment and then put his arm around her, pulling her tighter against him and snuggling his face near her neck where he could smell her while they slept.

"Just so long as you know we're not done…" Carol said.

Daryl kissed the back of her neck.

"We ain't never gon' be done," Daryl said. "I love ya…"

"I love you too," Carol said. "But I'm still mad."

Daryl chuckled a little.

"Just so long as ya can sleep," he said.

Carol got quiet after a few minutes and Daryl didn't hear any sound from the house. He assumed that everyone was finally settled in for the night. Not a single damn thing had been solved this day, but maybe tomorrow he could make up for being an asshole himself and figure out what the hell to do about his asshole brother who likely had tended his broken nose and passed out some time later on the couch.

Rome wasn't built in a day, though, and Daryl wasn't solving all the problems of the world tonight. Tonight the only thing he had left to do was get some rest for whatever awaited him.


	82. Chapter 82

**AN: Happy Friday everyone!**

**It's far too early here to be as tired as I am, so I'm hoping I perk up in a bit. Here's a little chapter to keep us going. I'll try to write more…here or elsewhere…later, but no promises unless I get some energy.**

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl wanted to talk to Carol before they both went to work, but things just didn't seem to work out like he wanted on a regular basis. By the time that Carol wasn't sick and they were trying to get ready to leave, there just wasn't enough time to recount all the stupidity of Merle in the detail that it merited.

They had agreed, then, that it would be better to wait until after work to discuss things, and both had gone their separate ways sharing only their brief morning exchange of a kiss and "love you" and an out the door for another great day.

And now Daryl felt like he was overthinking the whole damn thing because he couldn't get his brain to slow down for a fraction of a second, less likely stop. He'd been working on the farm but he was failing at nearly everything that he tried to do.

He'd busted a hole in a feed bag and didn't realize the bag was getting lighter until he'd damn near made a trail two inches thick running from the barn all the way down to the feeders.

After that he tried to load some hay bales for Hershel and dropped at least two of them before reaching his destination, tearing the bailing wire on one of them and leaving almost a fourth of the bale scattered around the ground to rake up later.

Merle knew how to make him doubt every damn thing in life and it was infuriating, especially because, deep down, Daryl was beginning to suspect that Merle only fucked with him to make Merle feel better about his own damn insecurities.

"Son," Hershel said, approaching Daryl, "could I have a word with you?"

Daryl could already feel it coming. Merle had fucked with him enough he had him doubting the hell out of himself and out of Carol…he'd caused him to fight with her which didn't make the day any damn better…and now he was probably about to get his ass fired by Hershel Greene for winning the farm fuck up of the year award. Daryl wished he'd broken Merle's jaw to go with his damn nose.

Daryl sighed and turned around, taking off the gloves that he was wearing and trying to figure out if he should consider groveling to keep his job or just bow the hell out gracefully.

He didn't say anything, though, he just looked at the old man and waited for it.

"Am I being too forward, Daryl, if I ask you what's going on with you today?" Hershel asked. "You've been a little distracted and frankly all day you've looked like a dog that's just got his tail slammed in the door. Is everything alright with Carol?"

Well that wasn't what Daryl was expecting. That wasn't what he was expecting in the least. Daryl bit at his thumb nail and tasted the flavor of the leather that had saturated his hands from the gloves.

"Yeah…" Daryl said. "I mean it's alright…I don't…it's nothin', just havin' an off day, but I'ma pay more attention an' I done got all that hay up…"

Daryl realized he was rambling but at the moment he had about as much ability to stop the rambling as he had to stop his brain from going over and over what Merle said and from stewing about what he could do to fix his brother's broken ass brain.

Hershel knit his eyebrows together at Daryl nodded a little, his hands diving into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels a bit.

"I see…" Hershel said. "Son, I'm not mad about the hay…or the feed for that matter. Hasn't been much of a day at the farm if nothing's been spilled. What's on your mind, though, Daryl?"

Daryl eyed the old man.

"Ain't really nothin' I wanta tell ya 'bout…I mean a lot of it ain't gon' sound real good an'…" Daryl started.

"Are you going to tell me something about life I haven't heard before?" Hershel asked, chuckling a little.

Daryl didn't know if Hershel had heard of anyone that was the likes of Merle in his life or not, and Daryl wasn't sure that he could describe Merle and still keep his language under the check that a man like Hershel Greene deserved.

Daryl wasn't sure how to answer the question, though, and he just looked at Hershel in response.

Hershel reached out and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Daryl, I suppose in my life I've seen most everything…and what I haven't seen, I've heard. Now if you've got something that can really surprise me then I'd love to hear it. New things keep life interesting," Hershel said.

"I've got to get back to work…" Daryl started.

"No offense, son, but with the quality of work you're doing right now, I'd really rather you didn't," Hershel said. "So why don't you keep an old man company and give me a little something to think about tonight after I've finished reading my almanac?"

Daryl sighed.

"It's my dumb a-, it's my dumb brother. He's gone an' f-…" Daryl started. Hershel reached out and put his hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"I believe I can edit for you, Daryl, just spit it out," Hershel said.

Daryl growled a little in his throat.

"It's Merle. He's done gone an' fucked things up with Andrea. Now he's drinkin' again an' he was sayin' things about Carol. He was sayin' she weren't really pregnant, an' that if she is it prob'ly ain't mine 'cause she's screwin' 'round an' I'm too damn stupid ta notice. So now I can't keep from thinkin' 'bout that shit an' I ain't even got half a damn clue what to do with Merle besides that!" Daryl said, his frustration coming out strong enough he almost wished Merle was in front of him so he could hit him again.

Hershel nodded his head, a slight smile flickering across his lips.

"Daryl…Carol Ann is pregnant, don't you worry about that. No one would wilt some bushes just to pull the wool over your eyes. As for the other accusations, I don't know what has and hasn't happened between you two or anyone else…but do you think Carol is having an affair?" Hershel asked.

Daryl thought about it and shook his head. He really didn't think she was, but that didn't mean that it wasn't burrowing a hole right through his brain just as if the thought had been a night crawler.

"And do you think that baby is yours?" Hershel asked.

Daryl nodded.

Hershel shrugged.

"Then that's all there is to it, son. Don't let your brother's bitterness make you lose even one moment of your happiness. He has the ability to decide if he's going to say something like that to you, but you're the one that decides if it's going to bother you," Hershel said.

"Yeah, I know that," Daryl said, "but it don't mean that I don't keep worryin' 'bout it."

Hershel nodded his head adamantly as though he were agreeing with some profound statement and Daryl didn't feel like he had enough energy to come up with anything profound today.

"Come here, Daryl," Hershel said. "I want to show you something my grandfather showed me and it's been one of the most important things I've seen in my life."

Hershel started to walk away and Daryl followed. If there was something that was important enough that Hershel could say that in all his life it had been one of the most important things he'd ever seen, then Daryl was all about seeing it.

Daryl followed Hershel almost off the property and watched as the old man searched around in the thick of some kudzu, finally coming up and walking over in front of Daryl. He leaned down and put a large, dirty rock on the ground. Daryl couldn't see anything special about the rock. There were probably at least two dozen more to be found in the same area if one wanted to go digging through damp kudzu.

"It's a rock," Daryl said.

Hershel nodded.

"I want you to move that rock, Daryl," Hershel said.

Daryl shrugged and reached down to pick up the dirty rock.

"No, not with your hands," Hershel corrected. "I want you to tell that rock to move until it goes back into those vines."

Daryl looked at Hershel, wondering if the old man was starting to go a little bit senile.

"Can't make no rock move," Daryl said. "It's just a stupid rock. Ya could talk ta it all damn day."

Hershel nodded.

"The rock might be dumb," Hershel said, "but words are weak. You could move that rock with your hands, couldn't you? Or kick it?"

"Well, yeah…" Daryl said.

Hershel shrugged.

"So there you go, Daryl. You can't move that rock with neither words nor worry, son. They're weak things that can't do anything. So don't let them get control of your mind," Hershel said. "And you've got to stay on top of it. Doubt and worry, all those things are like that kudzu over there. It doesn't take much to get it to take root, but once it gets going in your mind it'll choke everything else out."

"So you're sayin' not ta let Merle make me worry 'bout shit he when he's just blowin' smoke?" Daryl said, finally chuckling a little.

"Exactly," Hershel said.

Daryl sighed. He knew it was true and he was going to have to learn to let Merle's words bounce off him somehow…like BBs of a tin sign. He would never get Merle to stop talking, that wasn't going to happen until they laid his sorry ass to rest, but Daryl knew he had to learn to ignore Merle if he wasn't going to let Merle keep messing with his happiness.

"Ya got any tricks ta fix Merle?" Daryl asked.

Hershel chuckled.

"What's wrong with him exactly?" Hershel asked.

"Far as I can tell his head's pretty far wedged up his ass," Daryl said.

Hershel laughed.

"That's a pretty common problem, Daryl, but it's one I haven't figured out how to fix for people yet," Hershel responded.

Daryl sighed.

"Figures," he said. "I don't know what ta do 'bout him neither an' he's gonna get himself killed…prob'ly by me…if'n can't nobody figure out what to do."

"Maybe it's just best to let him alone," Hershel said. "You can't make somebody be something they're not willing to be, and trying to change them when their minds are made up is about as effective as beating your head against a wall and expecting them to get the headache."

Daryl chuckled.

"That's about what it feels like talkin' ta Merle," Daryl said. "'Cept given my druthers, I'd take the wall."

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Daryl and Carol picked up food from the Dairy-O and drove out to the lake to park and eat. It was the only way they were going to get any privacy since it wouldn't be very nice to send Andrea to one of the rooms with no furniture and Daryl didn't feel like she couldn't overhear them in their bedroom. So the only other option had really been to take off on their own.

"You going to tell me now what happened with Merle?" Carol asked.

"He's a dumb ass," Daryl said, taking a bite out of his cheeseburger and frowning at the giant glob of ketchup that immediately fell into his lap. Carol passed him some napkins.

"I already knew that, Daryl…I doubt that's what had you so spitfire mad," Carol said.

"He was drinkin' again an' he ain't done that shit since the night we hauled him from the Water Ho. He wanted ta get mouthy an' start sayin' shit an' it pissed me off, so I think I broke his nose," Daryl said.

Carol giggled lightly.

"You broke his nose?" She asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Didn't really mean ta do it but the son of a bitch pushed me an' I did it 'fore I really even fuckin' knew what I was doin'…I thought I was just gonna think it an' then I'd already done it," Daryl responded.

"What was he harassing you about?" Carol asked.

"Don't matter," Daryl said. "I don't give a shit no more."

"Well it must have mattered," Carol said. "You came in the house mad enough to scream and snort and want to push me around."

"That's part your fault too, ya know?" Daryl said. "I know we s'posed ta be doin' so good an' shit 'bout talkin' every damn thing out, but I ain't wired that way. I'm havin' ta fuckin' learn 'bout talkin' every damn thing out an' sometimes I just need ta breathe without'cha right up under foot."

Carol turned in the seat trying not to show that she was hurt. She wanted things to work with Daryl, but she didn't know much about talking things out either. Most the time talking things out with Ed had really been more of his fists talking.

Carol cleared her throat a little and picked at the burger she was only half interested in eating.

"So I'm not supposed to talk to you when you've been fighting with Merle?" Carol asked.

Daryl sucked his teeth.

"Damn it, don't go gettin' that tone a' voice," Daryl said. "I ain't done a damn thing to ya!"

"I'm not getting a tone of voice," Carol responded. She put the burger down and wrapped it back in the paper. Maybe she'd eat it later, or someone would. If nothing else she could take it home and give it to Lincoln. It really wasn't very appealing, and it certainly wasn't at the moment.

"Ya gettin' that tone a' voice where ya 'bout ta start poutin' or cryin' one an' I just don't feel like it right now," Daryl said.

"I'm not trying to get a tone of voice," Carol said. "I'm trying to understand what exactly it is that you want…you want to talk to me about things, but you want me not to talk to you when you've been having it out with Merle? Are there other people that you talk to that I can't talk to you afterwards?"

She was trying to pay attention to her voice now, but she knew it didn't sound quite right despite her best efforts. He'd hurt her feelings and she was having a hard time getting them completely under control.

Daryl growled a little.

"Listen, I'm just sayin' ya know how Merle is an' he starts talkin' shit an' then I gotta fuckin' deal with it or what I say ta ya ain't gon' be even half as nice as what I said last night. He was sayin' ya ain't even pregnant an' that if ya is, ain't my young'un no way. Said it was Shane Walsh's kid an' that ya fuckin' 'round," Daryl said. "I can't listen ta that shit an' then not have a couple minutes ta deal with it 'fore I'm s'posed ta just start talkin'."

Carol didn't doubt at all that Merle had said those things. They sounded just like Merle. He had some kind of problem with her or some kind of problem with her being with Daryl, though she wasn't sure which. Regardless of whether it was a case of the chicken or the egg, the fact remained that Merle didn't have any problem talking about her in a less than flattering manner.

"Daryl," Carol said. "I'm sorry that Merle pushes your buttons that way…and if I made it worse then I'm sorry for that too."

Daryl grunted some sort of response and pretended he had an extreme interest in the fries that he was eating and needed to carefully examine each of them before taking a bite. Carol handed him her fries, figuring he might as well finish them while he was going. He took them quietly but didn't look at her.

"I am pregnant," Carol said, "and it is yours. I told you that I didn't sleep with Shane Walsh…and I'm certainly not messing around…though that isn't the first time Merle's tried to suggest it."

"What are ya talkin' 'bout?" Daryl asked, turning toward her now, his brow wrinkled.

"Merle saw me talking to that neighbor…the man I told you about. He tried to make it into more than it was," Carol said. "I think he doesn't care for me."

"I don't give a fuck what Merle cares about," Daryl said. "Merle don't even know what he fuckin' cares about."

Carol chuckled.

"So can we just agree that I shouldn't have bothered you and you shouldn't have overreacted at me and call it done?" Carol asked. "Or is there something else we're supposed to do?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Fine by me," Daryl said. "I'm so damn tired a' my brother right this minute I'd like ta hang his ass up by his nuts. Wore me slap out today just thinkin' 'bout it an' I don't even know if the fucker went ta work or not."

"He went to work," Carol said. "I had Michonne call Tyreese and check."

Daryl snickered.

"Checkin' up on Merle is ya?" Daryl asked.

"He's your brother," Carol said.

Daryl looked at the bags between them in the seat.

"Ya didn't eat your food," he said.

"I didn't want it," Carol said.

Daryl frowned at her.

"Is it because a' all this Merle mess?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head.

"I didn't really want it before the Merle mess," she said. "It's fine, Daryl. You don't really believe I cheated on you, though, do you?"

Daryl shook his head.

"No, I don't believe a damn thing the bastard said," Daryl said. "Don't worry 'bout it."

Carol could tell that everything with Merle had drained Daryl. It was evident that he was emotionally and physically exhausted, and she hated thinking that she might be responsible for adding to it.

"What we gon' do 'bout Merle an' Andrea?" Daryl asked a moment later.

Carol shrugged.

"Andrea's not budging on the fact that she's not going to be the one to apologize," Carol said. "Merle's either going to have to get off his high horse or Andrea's going to move on…and I can't say as I blame her. She could do better."

Daryl sighed and nodded. Carol watched as he rubbed at his temples.

"Yeah, well, she just might have ta do better 'cause Merle's one hard headed asshole an' he thinks he got somethin' ta prove here," Daryl responded. "I wanna fix it, but I ain't even sure how ta begin."

"Might not be able to fix it, Daryl," Carol said. "Merle's got to want to fix it before anyone else can do anything."

Daryl shook his head.

"I just feel like Andrea helped us…or at least she tried ta help us…I feel like we owe her somethin'," Daryl said.

"We wanted to be helped Daryl…" Carol said. "We wanted to be together and we just needed that little nudge to help us get here and…with any luck…figure out how to stay here. Andrea and Merle aren't like us."

Daryl sighed.

"Ya ready ta go home?" He asked, turning to look at Carol again.

She nodded.

"Tell you what," she said. "When we get home, I'll give you a back rub and we can call it an early night."

Daryl chuckled.

"I really am a damn pussy…" he said.

"Why do you say that?" Carol asked. She wasn't sure what in the suggestion was something that was supposed to be terrible enough that it would merit using Merle's favorite slur for Daryl.

Daryl chuckled.

"'Cause that sounds like the best damn idea I heard in days, woman," Daryl said.

Carol smiled, realizing he was teasing with her now. Daryl lifted his arm up and reached toward her and for a moment she hesitated, not sure if she was reading him right or not.

"Scoot on over here," he said.

Carol moved the unwanted food bags to the foot and moved over, changing her seat to the middle of the truck so she could snuggle against Daryl as he drove home.

She really hoped they'd be able to figure out something to help Andrea and Merle…at least if that's what was best for both of them, but she believed what she'd said. Nothing they said or did was going to help Merle in the slightest until he decided to quit being so afraid of commitment and take control of his own life.

It might have been cruel towards Merle, but Carol didn't think Andrea deserved to stay with a man who couldn't or wouldn't admit that he loved her. She didn't exactly think they should try to push Andrea away from Merle, but Carol had to admit that she wouldn't mind seeing her friend treated the way she should be treated…and maybe Merle would come to his senses if he could see it too.


	83. Chapter 83

**AN: Hi everyone! Here's another little installment to our story! **

**This is another of those times when I feel the need to remind everyone that I'm no expert on hardly anything that I write about. Most things are "researched" on Google, so they're more than likely to be less than accurate. That being said, everything is simply included to be for entertainment purposes so if you're some kind of professional and things aren't right, I ask you to suspend disbelief and understand that this is just for entertainment. I don't have an editor, I don't own Walking Dead or any of its characters, and I don't get paid for writing…so I limit how much time I research what I put into the stories. Please forgive the inaccuracies. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter, and as always, if you feel so inclined please review and let me know what you think! I always love hearing from you! **

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"So it's a win, win, situation," Andrea said, dropping something in the grocery cart. Carol was walking along the aisles in the A and P pretty slowly and leaning over the handle of the shopping cart, pushing it as she went. She and Andrea had come in for one or two basic things, but mostly they were doing more talking than shopping by any stretch of the imagination.

"I don't care," Carol said. "I mean it's fine with me if you want to stay with us for a while. If we ever get the nursery put together we've still got the extra room."

"I wouldn't stay that long…" Andrea said. "I mean I'm not trying to go all 'crazy Aunt Andrea' and live there forever…but do you think Daryl would be OK with it?"

Andrea's search for a place to stay was turning up less than fruitful. She'd inquired about a few people looking for roommates, but Carol wasn't dumb and she knew perfectly well why none of them ever called Andrea back. They could say that they found someone or they could say that they had this reservation or that one about her moving in with them, but what it really boiled down to was the fact that Sweet Junction was a town packed full of narrow minded nitwits who didn't want someone with Andrea's reputation being their roommate.

Carol knew that Andrea knew that was the reason too, but they weren't talking about it. Who really wanted to admit that the reason people didn't call them back was because they thought they'd be bringing home strange men every night.

It had been at least a week and a half since Andrea had come to stay "temporarily" with Daryl and Carol. She'd been trying to find a place, talking to someone new every single day, but short of renting at the apartment building, it just wasn't looking like it was going to work out. Now she was proposing that she would buy furniture for the guest bedroom to serve as "rent" for a little while so she could continue her search without feeling guilty about staying on their couch.

As for Merle…well that was something all in itself.

He'd basically disappeared almost. Carol knew from Michonne, who found out from Tyreese, that the man went to work almost every day that he was supposed to, but Tyreese said that more often than not he was hung over and more surly than normal with the other workers. Tyreese had only managed to solve this problem by trying to make sure that Merle got assigned to jobs where he could work primarily alone and at his own pace.

Daryl hadn't seen him, though, since the night he'd broken his nose. Carol knew that Daryl felt guilty about not visiting his brother, but he was bothered by the fact that Merle had started drinking again, though he hadn't been reported as visiting the Watering Hole at all, and he had decided that if Merle was going to stress him out the way he had that night, that he'd rather not be around him until Merle could figure out how to clean his act up a little.

Carol didn't fault Daryl, either, for the distance that he put between himself and Merle. She didn't like seeing the effects that Merle had on Daryl, and she certainly didn't appreciate any added strain heaped on their relationship when it didn't have to be that way. She knew that Daryl felt like he had a responsibility to his brother, but she felt like Merle should be somewhat responsible for Merle's actions before everyone expected Daryl to be the one cleaning up the mess.

Andrea seemed to be taking the split just fine, though. Carol had talked to her about it once or twice and thought she understood Andrea's sentiments. They were essentially that she wasn't going to pine away over someone like Merle if he didn't give enough of a damn about her to just admit that he was halfway fond of her.

She wasn't exactly looking for roses and wine…just recognition. So Carol could understand why she was a little less than shaken up over the fact that she'd finally realized it wasn't likely to ever happen.

"Andrea, don't worry about it," Carol said. "Daryl will be fine with it. It's not like it changes anything having you there. Our lives are just as run of the mill as they always were and we like having you there."

Andrea chuckled.

"I guess you're right. I mean Daryl doesn't even care enough to wear pants half the time," Andrea said.

Carol laughed. Daryl had this sort of feeling about the house like it had some kind of force field around it. He was king of his castle and in his castle he could do what he pleased. That meant, apparently, that pants were optional at all times.

The first two days or so that Andrea had been there, Daryl had been stressed out about it. He was worried that she was going to hear them having sex…and then he got worried that because of that worry he was never going to have sex again.

Carol had finally calmed him down by reminding him that he'd heard Andrea and Merle more than once and that Andrea wasn't going to spontaneously combust if she heard them. She also reminded him that she was, in fact, pregnant, and that most people knew how that happened so sex wasn't some kind of big surprised. Besides, Carol had enough conversations with Andrea about sex to know that the woman was polar opposite of prude and didn't mind at all what they did in their bedroom. She wasn't likely to really mind it even if they'd marched right out into the living room and asked if she wanted to watch.

Once Daryl had handled the adjustment that Andrea being in the house didn't make the house nor Andrea any different, and once he'd realized that everything would continue to be essentially the same between them whether or not the woman slept on the couch, he hadn't minded the idea of Andrea being there at all.

Andrea made him breakfast in the morning, something Carol had gotten away from but hoped to get back to if she ever got to a point where mornings, and most afternoons, weren't the bane of her existence. For her breakfast making abilities Daryl found Andrea almost pleasing.

Unfortunately, now that Daryl was comfortable with Andrea there, he'd also settled back into the king of his castle feelings, meaning that he often didn't think about the fact that he was wandering around the house at night sometimes wearing nothing but what the good Lord gave him. Andrea didn't say much about it, but it had become something that she and Carol laughed about.

"We could go driving around tomorrow," Carol offered. "It's Sunday and I've got the day off work. We could check out the thrift stores and consignment shops and see what we find."

Andrea smiled.

"Sounds like a good deal to me," she said.

Carol thought the idea of driving around to the neighboring towns and doing some furniture shopping might be fun, and if Andrea was going to stay for a while she really did need a bed. As much as Carol didn't mind her there, it would be nice to get her off the sofa for a while.

"Do you mind if…while we're out…we look at some nursery furniture too?" Carol asked.

Andrea smiled and shook her head.

"Of course not! Getting the fever are you?" Andrea asked.

Carol laughed.

"I don't know," she said. "I mean I just want to look and get an idea of what things cost…what you need. I honestly don't even know what all I need for a baby."

Andrea made a face before stepping away and loading a few things into the cart.

"I'm making spaghetti when we get home," Andrea said. "Dinner has been decided."

Carol chuckled.

"Fine, I don't care what we eat and you know Daryl will eat almost anything," Carol said.

"We should get Michonne to go with us tomorrow," Andrea said.

Carol hadn't thought about inviting Michonne, but it could be fun and if anyone knew what she would and wouldn't need for a baby it would be Michonne.

"I don't know if she has the girls or not," Carol responded.

Andrea shrugged, giving Carol the look she gave her whenever she said something that Andrea thought bordered on ridiculous.

"So if she does have her bring the girls with her," Andrea said. "You're going to have a kid, aren't you? I mean between the three of us how much trouble could two of the little smelly things be?"

"You're right," Carol said. "It'll be fun. An all girls' day shopping for bedroom furniture and baby furniture. I'm sure Daryl's going to hate trying to find something else to do with his time."

Andrea laughed.

"Just tell him our plan and I bet he goes running and screaming," Andrea said.

Carol could imagine that furniture shopping for the guest room…or in this case Andrea's room…and the nursery wouldn't be Daryl's first choices for the way to spend his Sunday, but she also imagined that he would do it if she asked him to.

Carol finished her stroll around the A and P, lazily picking up items as she went, with Andrea talking to her about something she heard at the Watering Hole. She was half listening to the gossip, but really her mind had been turned at this point by the thought of actually looking at furniture for the nursery. She was sure it was too soon to be purchasing anything and putting the room together, but just the idea of looking at the furniture was exciting enough that she could hardly keep from grinning about it.

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"Son of a bitch!" Michonne spat.

"Michonne…" Rick said.

"I'm sorry," Michonne said. She was normally more mindful of her language when she was around children, but it had slipped out.

She was sitting in the Grimes' living room and Lori and Carl were sitting on the couch across from her, both of them looking at her.

"It's not a big deal," Lori said, she smiled softly at Michonne. "I'm going to do the dinner dishes…Carl, why don't you go play, it'll be ready for bed soon."

Michonne watched as the boy bounded out of the living room and upstairs. He, like most kids, probably knew that in certain situations the conversation that was about to happen would be neither appropriate nor interesting for him. Lori excused herself as well and Michonne really didn't mind. She doubted the woman cared at all about what was going on, and she couldn't blame.

But Michonne cared, and she'd been surprised to get the later than normal call from Rick that she come over for a few minutes because he had something to discuss with her that she might be interesting in hearing. Thankfully Tyreese was at her house and had immediately offered to watch the girls.

"I knew you'd probably be upset…" Rick started in the calm voice that he maintained at all times.

Michonne like Rick a lot and they had a lot of dealings with one another. He kept her informed of some of the inside gossip and she kept him informed from her end, both under the agreement that were they ever asked about it they would deny ever sharing anything. They had, after all, no misunderstandings of the law or even of what was morally or ethically frowned upon.

She always teased him, though, about his cop voice. Rick had the ability to remain outwardly calm in the middle of a tornado if he could channel his inner cop. It amused her most of the time, but tonight she almost couldn't handle it because her blood was boiling.

"Upset doesn't even begin to cover this, Rick!" Michonne said. "Why haven't I heard anything about this?"

Rick shrugged.

"It doesn't have anything to do with you, Michonne. It doesn't really have anything to do with Carol even, not directly. There was no reason for them to notify you that it would be taking place," Rick said.

Michonne frowned. Really her question had been rhetorical. She understood why she hadn't officially heard anything about it but with a gossip chain in the area that was massive enough to span several towns and cover everything down to what flavor oatmeal the Judge at County had eaten for breakfast that morning, Michonne felt that by now she should have heard something. It had gone under her radar though.

"From what I heard from Frank Thomas, this is something that's between Ed and the County," Rick said. "They're arguing he was given an unfair trial and that he was sentenced rashly and without proof. Frank went on to tell me some more, but like everything else, I don't know how much of it was actual gospel truth and how much was embellished around the water cooler."

Michonne took a deep breath and tried to calm down a little. Getting upset or furious wasn't going to change anything. Realistically there wasn't a thing that she could do about any of it. Rick was really only informing her of all this because she had emotional investment in it, not for any legal purpose.

"Did he say who the lawyer was?" Michonne asked. She shook her head at the very thought of someone trying to get Ed's sentence reduced. The asshole had only gotten five years as it was because the history of abuse had gone undocumented for the most part. The rest he was paying out in funds. Now someone was going to go to court to champion the asshole and say he didn't even deserve that? What she thought he really deserved was to be drug through town by wild horses connected to his testicles…but it was the wrong time period for that.

Michonne couldn't begin to think who would be such an asshole that they would actually stand up for a man like Ed Peletier without being court mandated as his attorney, and she knew a lot of bottom feeding lawyers around her.

Rick shrugged a little.

"Said it was Philip Blake," Rick said. He shook his head. "I don't know him."

"Why do I know that name?" Michonne asked. She felt like the name was familiar, almost like it was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't figure out why it felt so familiar there.

"I don't know anything about him," Rick said. "He's either new in town or from out of town…I don't know. All I know is Frank said that the word is that he's trying to show that Ed got unfair treatment and that he's actually a good guy essentially."

Michonne chuckled, but it was less brought on by humor and more brought on by the absurdity of the situation.

"And the pictures of Carol? And the doctor's reports? What does all that say about his good guy status?" Michonne asked.

Rick shrugged and chuckled a little himself, holding his hands out and palm up to her as if to show that he was out of things to say to her about the situation.

She understood what he meant. This was a situation that Rick had no real information about in the first place. He'd passed through the courthouse today, apparently, picking up some files and filling out some paperwork and while he was there he'd talked to an old friend of his who often passed along all kinds of gossip about what was happening behind the scenes of their judiciary system.

Michonne sighed.

"I know…I know…you don't know anything really," Michonne said, pinching her temples. "This guy…he's got to be a real snake if he's defending Ed. Either that or he's completely fucking clueless."

Michonne glanced up and scanned the room. She knew that Carl was upstairs, but she was trying to remind herself that she needed to be polite and get a grip on her tongue before she slipped again in front of Rick's son.

Rick nodded his head a little at her.

"He's one or the other…but that's what's happening," Rick said. "I just thought you might want to be aware. I don't know how far they'll drag Carol into this, but you might consider giving her a heads up in case they subpoena her or something. She might like to know what's going on."

Michonne sighed and rested her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands. Carol was not going to be pleased to hear this at all and Michonne knew it. It could mean a world of annoyances at the very least for the woman and she didn't deserve any of them. It would probably put a stop on her getting more money from Ed, at least until some kind of verdict was reached, however long that might take…and it could mean that Ed walked a whole hell of a lot sooner than they'd thought.

Michonne didn't even know if Carol was involved enough to know how long Ed was sentenced to in the first place. Michonne had hoped for longer than five years, but realistically there wasn't anything that could be done to get him put away as long as she wanted him put away. His record was fairly clean, and because Carol hadn't reported things before, it looked like they were overreacting. He'd gotten a pretty hefty sentence for a first offense at domestic abuse, and what worried Michonne most was that was mostly owing to the fact that some strings had been pulled.

Ed _had_ technically received an unfair trial by the court standards, and it had gotten covered up and swept under the rug. She had recommended a good, old fashioned hanging, but that was frowned upon, even in Georgia. So she'd been happy with what they got given the circumstances.

Now, however, some asshole was going to go snooping around and find out what she already knew…Ed Peletier had gotten an unfair trail because it had been unanimously decided by some of them with the power to do it that he was an asshole and deserved to be punished.

Now that punishment might be reduced.

Michonne felt like she wanted to puke. Rick shifted a little uncomfortably and she wondered if the feeling had changed her facial expression.

"Are you OK?" Rick asked, his question confirming her suspicion.

Michonne nodded.

"I'm fine…I just…I wasn't expecting this," Michonne said. Her head was beginning to pound and she wished she didn't have to drive home. This would be one of those times when teletransportation would be nice.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Rick said, his face showing that he meant the words.

Michonne sighed.

"It's not you, Rick. I hope that this guy…whoever he is…falls flat on his face in this," Michonne said.

Rick chuckled.

"Well, you know justice always prevails," Rick said.

Michonne chuckled a little at the sarcasm lathered statement. The truth was that anyone who worked with the law knew that was one of the biggest lies about the law. Money prevailed, social standing prevailed, connections prevailed…but justice rarely did.

Only Michonne had thought it did in the case of Ed Peletier. Unfortunately the fat bastard had been clever enough to spend some time trying to figure out how to weasel out of what was really a much more lax sentence than he deserved, and he may have found the loophole.

Michonne wasn't giving up, though. She was going to see what strings she could pull to find out what was going on and how she might be able to get a hole shot in the plan somehow. Something had to be enough to put Ed right where he belonged and keep him there.

"What did you say the lawyer's name was?" Michonne asked.

"Frank said his name was Philip Blake," Rick said. "That's all I know about him."

Michonne dug around in her purse and found a gum wrapper and an ink pen. She wrote the name on the wrapper and stuck it in with her credit cards. First thing Monday she was going to find out every damn thing that anyone ever needed to know about this Philip Blake character, and she was going to start finding out what the hell might be done from higher up to sabotage the case and make sure he lost. She may have been guilty of doing a little dirty law in her life, but at least she did it for the right damn reasons…she felt like anyone championing Ed Peletier, whether he'd been done wrong or not, wasn't doing anything for a good reason.

"I guess I'm going to see what I can find out," Michonne said.

Rick nodded at her.

"I know it's frustrating that it's out of your hands," Rick said. "But whatever happens…it can be handled."

Michonne nodded her head a little. She got up off the couch and Rick stood too.

"Thank you for letting me know, Rick," Michonne said.

"Anytime," Rick said. "I'm sorry that I even had to hear this myself."

Michonne just nodded. She didn't know what else to say, if there was anything else that really could be said. She let Rick walk her to the door and she said her goodbyes to Lori with a smile and then thanked Rick again before finally heading to her car.

She had talked to Carol only an hour maybe before Rick called and the woman was in wonderful mood. She was practically on cloud nine with her life. And tomorrow when she saw her she was going to have to tell her that some snake in the grass was out there and trying to get Ed's sorry ass out on the street again.

Michonne groaned to herself in the cool darkness of the autumn night. She hoped that she could at least get a good night's sleep, and she hoped that she could figure out some way to guarantee Carol, even as she delivered the potentially bad news, that everything was going to be fine and it was going to work out in her favor. Michonne glance up at the clear sky for a moment and repeated the hope for herself. She'd never believed in the bullshit of wishing on stars, but tonight she'd take whatever she could get.


	84. Chapter 84

**AN: Holy typos, Batman! I reread the last chapter and if you love me at all after all the missed words and typos…you're real troopers! That'll teach me to try and write chapters around tons of phone calls and the neighbors' wild parties. Sorry about that. I know they're usually bad, but that was out of control! **

**Anyway, thank you anyway for forgiving me and still doing your best to enjoy what you could read of the chapter! Ha ha!**

**I hope you enjoy this little instalment. Let me know what you think! This one is Andrea-centric.**

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For Michonne to be as smart as she was, she wasn't always as smart as she needed to be, that was Andrea's perspective at this point.

She was crammed in the backseat of Michonne's car and they were on their way home, their day cut shorter than they'd meant it to be. Luckily they'd found a bedroom set that Carol was happy with early in the day and had it tagged so that Tyreese could take a worker with him and go and pick it up the next day. Andrea had fortunately had enough to pay for it and Tyreese was a big enough sweetheart to take some time off work and pay someone to go with him to move at as soon as possible.

If they hadn't found the bedroom set earlier in the day there would be absolutely no telling when Andrea would move from sleeping on the couch to a bedroom unless she bought a sleeping bag at the super store in town and went with that.

They'd gone to eat a late lunch at a barbecue pit that was pretty popular in the little town they were shopping in, about an hour away from Sweet Junction, and Michonne had decided to share with Carol what she had learned from Rick Grimes the night before.

Andrea had listened, over her pulled pork sandwich, as Michonne had tried to calmly inform Carol that there might be a chance that Ed would be getting out of prison a little sooner than they'd expected. Even as Andrea had heard it her stomach had dropped and she'd lost more than a little interest in her lunch, so she could only imagine what the news was doing to Carol.

Andrea had been fooled about the whole thing until Michonne started talking. She'd thought, obviously incorrectly, that a man like Ed Peletier would naturally do twenty or so years of time for his crimes. That wasn't the case. Apparently five was his sentence…and of course he could always get off earlier on good behavior or parole. That information alone would have been enough to ruin the day for Andrea if she were Carol, but then the thought that someone was trying to get him even less time than that…possibly reducing his sentence to something like six months…that was enough to send the entire day into complete shambles.

Of course, it had been obvious that as soon as Michonne had started talking about it, she realized she'd chosen a bad time to say anything, not that there was going to be a time that was just absolutely ideal to tell the woman that the man who had terrorized her life might have the chance to come back into it.

Carol had held it together, at least, meaning that she hadn't come all to pieces in the Pig Pit with the four or five locals wondering what was happening. She'd said she wasn't hungry, excused herself to the bathroom, and then Andrea had sat there awkwardly with Michonne until they figured it was time to call it a day and drag her out, hoping that she'd calm down.

Michonne had actually thought they were going to continue shopping after that. She'd thought that it might distract Carol. The only thing that distracted Carol was trying to get into the car before she either vomited again or fell to pieces, which she did promptly when the car door closed.

And now they were heading back to Sweet Junction.

Carol was in the passenger's seat in front of Andrea, staring out the window. She'd finally stopped crying, at least. Andrea kept her arms around the back of the seat and from time to time she squeezed at Carol's shoulder muscles trying to get her to calm down.

Michonne was driving with her eyes glued to the road as though it were an obstacle course instead of a fairly empty backwoods highway. Andrea knew that she felt guilty about the whole thing. The issue with Ed wasn't her fault, of course, and the truth was that the news would have hit Carol like a ton of bricks anywhere and at any time, but realistically lunchtime on a day that Carol was excited about was probably not the best choice of times. Andrea knew this and Michonne was realizing it, though in true lawyer fashion she was still trying to talk it down.

"He's not out right now…" Michonne said. "It could take a long time for his case to even get called up…it could be a very long time before anything comes of this, and that's if it even does once he's called up."

Andrea listened to Michonne and squeezed Carol's shoulders. Carol didn't respond. The most she did was move her hand to her mouth every now and again or wipe at her eyes. She continued to stare out of the window.

"Do you know who the lawyer is?" Andrea asked. Maybe all hope wasn't really lost. Michonne seemed to know everyone and she had pretty good influence on everyone that she knew. Maybe she knew this person and could find out if they were representing Ed because they had to or if they were genuinely interested in getting the son of a bitch out of jail.

"He's a man by the name of Philip Blake," Michonne said, her eyes never leaving the road. "He's new around here or something. I've never heard of him but first thing tomorrow morning I'm going to find out who he is."

Andrea felt a quick clinch in her stomach and she knew it wasn't owing to the fine quality of the Pig Pit's food.

"Philip Blake?" She asked. She wanted to make sure she'd heard this correctly.

"Yeah," Michonne said. "The name is familiar, but I racked my brain all night and know I've never been in court with him."

"Philip Blake…" Andrea muttered. The mother fucking creep who had been at the Watering Hole? The asshole who came and tried to sweet talk her ass and showed up like he popped out the fucking shadows at the Korean restaurant? "Michonne…I know who the fuck he is," Andrea said. "Carol knows him too."

Carol jumped a little at her name and Andrea realized that she'd been tuning out the better part of this conversation.

"He's the creepy ass guy that's been coming to the Watering Hole. He drinks fucking scotch on the rocks and sometimes he has a jumpy little nerdy toady named Milton with him," Andrea said. "Fucker said he was here on business but he never said what kind of business. Showed up at the Korean restaurant too. He's a real creepster…always fucking hitting on me and stuff."

Michonne chuckled a little.

"Is he actually creepy or do you typically think that men that hit on you are creepy?" Michonne asked.

Andrea shook her head.

"No, I'm serious. He's creepy. I don't know why either. He's a smarmy asshole type. He seems like he just pops up places…you know like those mafia type people in movies that just show up in damp alleys? That's what the fuck it feels like when he's around," Andrea said.

"Do you know him?" Michonne asked, turning briefly to Carol.

"Remember?" Carol said, softly, her voice shaky. "The man that I was telling you about was freaking Andrea out. We were going to start watching him?"

Andrea could tell by the shift in facial expressions that Michonne was remembering the conversation she'd apparently had with Carol.

"That's where the fuck I know him from!" Michonne spat. "Well, I'm about to get to know him better…you can count on that. You two stay away from him, though, and I mean that. Don't tell him jack shit about anything. If he wants to know what time it is point at a clock. I don't know what this fucker's angle might be in this case and no one wants to give him anything that he can use."

Carol heaved a big sigh and Andrea resumed squeezing at her neck muscles.

They rode home from there in relative silence, finally getting to Carol's house. Andrea was relieved to see that Daryl's truck was in the driveway and he appeared to be tinkering on the bike that Merle had all but abandoned since their split. Andrea figured if anyone could calm Carol down and have a chance of getting her out of the mentality that she'd just as well go home and stick her head in the oven, it would be Daryl.

When Michonne stopped the car, she got out immediately and ducked her head back inside.

"Andrea, can you stay here with Carol a minute? I want to talk to Daryl and I'm going to get him to come and get her. She's looking a little pale and I don't want her going out on us," Michonne said.

Andrea nodded her head and stayed where she was. She'd spent the whole ride cramped into this position so it wasn't like another few minutes was exactly going to kill her. She continued to knead Carol's muscles and watched as Michonne went and talked to Daryl, probably giving him the nickel's worth of the story.

"It's going to be fine," Andrea said to Carol. She wasn't sure she believed herself, but she was going to offer Carol whatever support she could right now. "He's not getting out, and even if he did, you've got all of us. He's not getting anywhere near you."

Andrea knew it was a lie. She had no more ability to protect Carol than a man on the moon. She'd proven that the night they'd been attacked by Ed coming home from the Watering Hole. All he had to was catch them off guard and she couldn't kill the bastard even if she wanted to. She wasn't going to point that weakness out to Carol, though, at least not right now. If Carol felt better thinking every last one of them had super powers then she was sure as shit going to support that thought process.

Daryl came with Michonne rather quickly toward the car, wiping his greasy hands on his pants as he came. He opened the passenger seat and leaned in, his arms going around Carol. She stood up, wrapping hers around him.

Andrea didn't know if anyone could actually make this situation better, but she knew that Daryl could at least make Carol feel like it wasn't anything too serious for them to handle.

She crawled out of the back seat, stretching her legs, and moved to get Michonne's baby seat out of the trunk that she'd put in there earlier to make room.

Daryl was taking Carol inside and she was audibly crying again. Andrea frowned at Michonne.

"Pop the trunk," she said. Michonne moved to do just that and then came to talk to Andrea around back of the car. "Do you really think this guy is getting Ed off the hook?" Andrea asked.

Michonne shrugged.

"There are so many variables and it's going to depend on…" Michonne started. Andrea held her hand up and rolled her eyes.

"I don't want the lawyer shit, Michonne. I just want your damn opinion. I'm not going to sue you over what the hell you told me over the trunk of your car," Andrea said, annoyed and worried. She'd never had friends before, and she'd certainly never had one like Carol, and she took it very personally to know what Ed had put Carol through and what he might try to do now if given the chance.

Michonne sighed.

"Honestly? There's a chance. There's a very good chance," Michonne said. "He's in there for five years so his lawyer is going to move to have it brought up as soon as possible…his case might not have been as by the books as it should have been…there's a good chance Ed Peletier gets off easier than he deserves."

Andrea almost felt tears welling up in her eyes at the very thought of it and at the sound of sincerity in Michonne's words when she was speaking outside the earshot of Carol.

"He's alive, isn't he?" Andrea asked. Michonne looked at her. "He's already getting off easier than he deserves."

Andrea yanked the car seat out of the trunk and slammed the trunk lid. She was fighting back her own feelings on this, mostly fueled by anger at the situation.

Andrea thought back over the years that she'd lived in the little shit town. There'd been a lot of shit, having to do with people, which she'd never fully understood, but there'd been almost as much having to do with the law that baffled the hell out of her.

"You know," she said, turning angrily toward Michonne after putting the car seat in the car and closing the door, figuring the other woman could worry about how the hell to make it child suitable, "here's what I don't understand about the whole damn thing. They'll put people in prison for drugs…for selling them and all that shit. That's totally voluntary. Everyone involved in the fucking drug trade is doing it on their own free will. They're selling and buying it because they want to…but they'll lock you up and throw away the key if you want to fuck up your own mind or help somebody else fuck up theirs because they want to. That's some serious shit…but Ed could have killed Carol. He would have killed her if he'd had the chance…he would have killed me too. Except it just doesn't matter that much to the fucking police or lawyers or judges…it's not that important…not when they've got serious problems like some fucking stupid asshole that wants to fry his own brain."

Andrea stopped a moment when Michonne wrapped her hands around her lower arms.

"There are a lot of things about the law that none of us can fully understand," Michonne said. "Just because I've studied it and worked with it doesn't mean I don't think some dumb fucks were the ones who came up with this, OK?" Michonne said. "But you're not going to change that and neither am I. Neither one of us has that kind of importance in the world. For one damn thing, neither one of us has a penis…and we surely don't have the money to do what the people really in charge do."

Andrea could feel her blood boiling. She wasn't mad with Michonne in the slightest, but Michonne was the only person around for her to take her anger out on and the woman seemed to realize that. Andrea could see a spark of anger or frustration or something glimmering behind Michonne's eyes too.

"So what if he gets out?" Andrea asked. "What are they going to do then? Give her another piece of paper saying how far away from her he's got to stay until he decides to ignore that piece of paper too?"

Michonne frowned.

"If he gets out…yes. She can have a restraining order against him. If he tries anything else, though, it'll be a more serious offense. His lawyer won't be able to save him like he might this time," Michonne said. "He'll get a heftier sentence."

Andrea chuckled at the absurdity of it simply because she couldn't keep it in anymore.

"If he tries anything else?" She asked. "So what? So Carol's just got to hang around waiting for the next time he jumps her and tries to beat her skull open on the sidewalk like it's a damn piñata?"

Michonne's fingers tightened their hold on Andrea's arms and Michonne brought herself closer into Andrea, staring into her eyes the same way that an adult might stare at a child who wasn't calming down enough to listen to what they were saying.

"Listen…we don't know what's going to happen here," Michonne said. "I'm going to look into this, I can promise you that. Ed might not get out…he might do his full five years…and then we'll have to worry about him, but Carol doesn't need everyone losing it right now. She needs us for support and that means you've got to hold it together and be there for her. This is not the end of the world. Everything is going to continue to go on normally. Can you handle that?"

Andrea nodded finally.

"Normally…yeah, I can handle that," she said. The five years had her almost as stirred up as all the rest. She thought that Ed would be gone…like really gone…even five years didn't sound like much of a stint in prison. Stupid television shows lasted longer than that.

"Good," Michonne said. "She needs you and she needs for everything to be normal and happy and just what she's gotten used to it being. Let me worry about what's going on with Ed. I'll let you know if there's anything new to be aware of."

Andrea nodded again.

Michonne released her hold on her arms and continued to stand there, facing her for a moment.

"Why would the lawyer…Philip Blake…" Andrea said. "What does he want with me?"

Michonne shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Could be genuinely interested in you or he could be looking for something on Carol and knows you're close to her. I don't know what his angle is on the case and I don't really know what he's arguing. I'm going to try to find out, but if he's a decent lawyer that won't be easy. I'd just advise you to stay away from him. If he's trying to get any pieces to the puzzle he's putting together, don't give them to him," MIchonne said.

Andrea sighed.

"I wouldn't do anything on purpose," Andrea said. "And I'll do my best to lay low or whatever it is that I need to do if I'm part of what could get Ed out of prison…I don't want him ever getting out but if five years is his sentence then I want him to do every single hour of that."

Michonne smiled at her.

"I know you wouldn't do anything, Andrea. You're a good friend…and even if he comes up with some shit and he somehow makes it about you…it's not your fault, OK? Lawyers are some sneaky sons of bitches and I should know," Michonne said.

Andrea chuckled.

Andrea glanced back toward the house, wondering what was going on inside. She imagined that Daryl was probably working double time trying to calm Carol down and reassure her that no matter what happened everything was going to be fine.

That was the mantra they all had to adopt. They were going to have to keep going as normal and remember that no matter what happened, everything was going to be fine.

"I guess I should go in," Andrea said. She suddenly realized she was tired from just the stress of everything that had happened since lunch.

Michonne reached out and pulled Andrea into a hug before she even knew what was happening. Andrea wrapped her arms around the woman in response, hugging her back. Michonne was the bearer of bad news, but she wasn't the cause of it. Andrea knew as well as anybody that if Ed got out of prison it was going to kill Michonne too.

"Remember," Michonne said, "normal, OK?"

Andrea nodded.

"So damn normal I might just have to go fight with Merle to get everyone's mind on something else," Andrea said.

Michonne chuckled.

"No, really," Andrea said. "It's good…we can handle this…"

"We can," Michonne said.

"I'm going to make dinner," Andrea said. She turned and started in the house. At least she could make something to eat so that when and if Carol and Daryl ever emerged they'd have something. She wasn't hungry right now, but she figured that cooking would put her mind on something else and it wasn't as if the food would spoil any time soon.

"Ty will bring your bedroom suit by tomorrow," Michonne said.

Andrea turned back to look at the woman who was getting ready to get in her car.

"I'll be home all day. Nothing to do tomorrow until it's time for the Watering Hole," Andrea said, forcing herself to smile in hopes that practicing the expression would make her feel it.

"Tell Carol that she doesn't have to come in tomorrow," Michonne said. "I won't be in the office and neither will Daddy so it's just a paid holiday for her. It's a good thing too…she probably needs it."

"You got it!" Andrea called.

Michonne got in her car and Andrea walked under the carport. She stood, for a moment, with her hand on the doorknob and watched as Michonne's car backed out of the drive before she finally swung the door open and went inside, Lincoln waiting to greet her, hoping that Daryl and Carol had everything there under control.


	85. Chapter 85

**AN: A little something for you today. It's been a busy day but I wanted to get something out to keep moving us forward in our tale.**

**I know I don't get around to them all individually all the time, but as always I thank you for your reviews and your comments. They make my day and I love hearing that you're invested in the story and the characters. It makes it that much more rewarding to write for you all! I'll try to get a little something out for you tomorrow! **

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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If Daryl was ever sure before that he was in over his head with this whole women and relationship thing, he was pretty positive now. He had no idea what to do for Carol to make her feel better.

At this moment he was doing the only thing that he could even begin to think of. He'd settled on the bed with his back against the headboard. Carol was sitting, facing him, draped across him and he was holding her much like someone might hold a small child. Since he didn't know how to fix it, he figured the best he could do was just offer to hold her while she worried and cried it out. The trash can rested on the floor beside the bed so he could reach it if she cried herself into another gagging fit.

Daryl's hope was that he could hold her and rub her back until she finally just fell asleep. Then he could maneuver her around and get her to bed, letting her at least rest. It might be the only relief she could get until the shock wore off, or whatever it was that was consuming her in this moment.

After a bit, though, her sobbing finally subsided and Daryl leaned forward a little with the intent to tip her enough that he could see if she was asleep or not. The tightening of her arms around him as he leaned up let him know that she wasn't asleep.

"Ya can't be comfortable like that, an' I know I don't smell so great," Daryl said. "Been workin' on that damn bike damn near all day."

"I'm fine," Carol protested. She drug her face across his chest and he added snot and tears to the list of things that were probably on his shirt.

"I know this ain't what'cha wanted ta hear," Daryl said, "but one damn way or another this shit's gonna be fine. Even if his sorry ass gets outta jail he ain't messin' with ya."

"You can't say that, Daryl…" Carol said.

Daryl leaned forward the rest of the way then until he was sitting up. He reached his hand between them and pushed her off of him enough to tip her face toward him. Her eyes were red and swollen and his heart ached just to know that Ed, no matter where the fuck he was, still had enough damn power to do this to her. Daryl frowned.

"I promise ya," Daryl said. "If I got any control at all in the situation, I ain't gon' let him so much as come near ya."

Carol turned her head sharply, freeing her chin from his finger and returning her head to his chest, holding tight to him.

"You can't always be there, Daryl," Carol said. "And he thinks he owns me or something…he'll be there when you're not. And what about the baby?"

Daryl leaned back again letting her sink against him once more. He resumed rubbing her back. He was trying to remember what Hershel said about worrying the rock into the big damn patch of kudzu, but he couldn't stop worrying right now any more than he could make Carol stop worrying.

The fact of the matter was that he couldn't always be there…it just wasn't possible. It made his stomach clench tight every time he thought about the night that Ed had attacked Carol and Andrea. He remembered how damn helpless he felt in that fucking car headed toward the hospital and not knowing what the hell he would find.

Now he had Carol to worry about and there was the baby too. Even though he couldn't even verify the damn thing's presence aside from Carol's obvious distaste for food most of the time, he didn't want anything to happen to it. Even if it wouldn't destroy him entirely, what it would do to Carol would.

"He ain't gon' hurt you an' he ain't gon' hurt the baby," Daryl said. "Ya gotta calm down, though…Michonne said we don't even know what to expect. Ya might be gettin' all worked up over nothin'."

"I might…" Carol said, "or I might just be preparing for what's going to happen. It's hard to say."

She scrubbed her face into his chest again. Daryl was glad that at least she'd quit crying. He had some chance of getting her to calm down when she wasn't sobbing, but when she was choking and gasping like she'd been doing earlier it was hard for him to even breathe, less likely figure out what to say to calm her down.

"Don't think like that," Daryl said. "Michonne said ya gotta just be positive. Ain't nothin' that worryin' can do 'bout it no way."

Carol sat up then and Daryl grimaced. As much as he didn't mind holding her on his lap he wished she would realize that certain ways she moved around damn near killed his manhood. She must have figured it out, though, because she whispered a sorry and threw her leg over, climbing off of him to sit on the bed.

Outside the bedroom door Daryl could hear Lincoln whining every now and again and could hear the huffing of his breathing as he sniffed at the crack. Andrea was apparently in the living room…not really having much else of a place to go, and from time to time she hissed at Lincoln, trying to distract the dog without reminding Daryl and Carol of her presence.

"Can we let the damn dog in?" Daryl asked, realizing that Carol was at least ready to talk about this in somewhat of an organized fashion. Carol rubbed her hands across her damp cheeks and nodded at him.

Daryl got off the bed, realizing immediately the number she'd done on him wiggling around and smashing parts of him he'd rather not have had smashed, and walked to the door. He opened it far enough for Lincoln to dart through and run directly up his stairs before Daryl could get the door closed again.

The dog bounded around on the bed licking at Carol's face and damn near wiggling himself to death, obviously suffering greatly from the lack of petting during the time that they'd been in there. At least, though, his antics brought something of a smile to Carol's face that was a welcomed change from what Daryl had been seeing.

Daryl made his way back to the bed and sat down.

He looked around, but the bedroom offered him nothing in the way of rocks, so he finally picked up one of Carol's hair ties that was on the nightstand and put it on the bed.

"Hershel told me this an' it's a good damn thing for ya ta hear right now," Daryl said. He pointed to the hair tie and pushed Lincoln back so he couldn't take it and try to run with it like he did with most everything else he could get his damn teeth on. "Want'cha ta move that hair bow there but'cha can't use ya hands."

Carol blinked at him, looking a little confused.

"You mean like with my feet?" She asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"No, I want'cha ta worry that damn thing back onto the nightstand," Daryl said.

Carol frowned.

"You're trying to tell me that worry doesn't do much, right?" Carol said.

Daryl chuckled again. He picked the hair tie up and tossed it back at the night stand.

"Damn, ya faster than I was on that shit," Daryl said. "That's my damn point, though. Ya ain't allowed ta worry no damn more over Ed's sorry ass."

"Daryl, it's a lot easier to say that I'm not going to worry about it than not to worry about it," Carol protested.

Daryl shook his head at her.

"Don't even start talkin' like that. Just say ya gon' quit worryin'. I know ya got ta have other fuckin' shit ta think about…so let's think about that. Hell we can talk about any fuckin' thing ya wanna talk about," Daryl said. "Go ahead…any damn thing that trips ya trigger."

Carol frowned at him again and tugged Lincoln up to her, kissing the knot on the top of his head.

"I don't have anything to talk about, Daryl," Carol said softly.

"What'd ya buy today?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged.

"We found a bedroom set for Andrea," Carol said.

At first Daryl had thought he wouldn't like having Andrea around, but now that she was here he didn't mind it all that much. It didn't really change things like he thought it would and he knew that Carol liked having her around. They got into all that girly shit that Daryl couldn't even understand. In fact, he figured the only downside so far to having Andrea in their house meant that some damn where his sorry brother was attempting to drown his liver and was pining away over a woman that he didn't have the balls to admit that he wanted back.

"What's it look like?" Daryl asked.

The truth was he didn't give a damn about furniture. The entire house could be furnished with things made out of two by fours and plywood for all he cared. Carol liked that shit, though, and she often talked about the things she eventually wanted to buy for the house when they could afford to finish furnishing it. Most of it was just talk, of course, because it would take them a long time to save up to her dreams, but Daryl didn't mind the talk and it made her happy to sit around and imagine what the house would eventually look like.

Right now he'd let her talk about furniture until her head exploded from excitement if it would get her mind off Ed and the possibility that the asshole might be able to return to Sweet Junction.

Carol shrugged again.

"It's just a bedroom set…really it's part of a bedroom set. It's a wood bed," she started. Daryl thought she already looked a little calmer just from trying to focus on something else. "The headboard's got some pretty carvings. We went by another store…Andrea bought some mattresses. It's really nothing fancy…it's a queen sized bed, though. It has a nightstand and Michonne said she thinks that one of her parents' old dressers she's got in her attic would go with it. She wants us to go and look at it."

Daryl tried his best to paint on the most interested face that he could.

"I can help ya move the damn thing if ya need me too," he offered.

Carol absentmindedly heaved Lincoln up, hugging him against her, her chin resting on his head. She always reminded Daryl of Lennie, the cartoon bear or whatever the hell he was, that would pet the hell out of the damn squirrel until it died. He always thought Lincoln should be sitting there gasping at the way she hugged him and petted him…but the damn dog seemed to think it was the greatest thing in the world, and the more she loved on him, the more he liked it.

"Tyreese is bringing the bedroom set and the mattresses tomorrow. He's taking a worker and going to get it. I don't know what we'll do about the dresser…or even if I'm going to look at it," Carol said. She frowned again, the frown starting to deepen and Daryl almost panicked trying to come up with something to distract her.

"Of course ya goin' ta look at the damn dresser. Andrea ain't got shit, but she at least deserves a drawer to put her shit in 'stead a' them damn cardboard boxes she's been haulin' 'round. Them fuckin' boxes prob'ly damn near old as she is," Daryl said. "That's what the fuck she moved into the apartment with."

Andrea had gone not long after her initial arrival to their house and brought the rest of her things while Merle was at work. She'd brought everything she owned, which wasn't enough to impress anyone, and she'd piled the cardboard boxes up in the empty room that they'd now be moving her bedroom furniture into.

Daryl could see that Carol still wasn't feeling chatty.

"Did'ja get baby shit?" He asked. He knew they were going to look at stuff for the baby. The middle room had been designated the nursery but there wasn't a damn thing in there right now except for some random boxes and shit. Daryl didn't really know what a baby needed. He figured it needed a crib…something to put clothes and diapers in…that had to be about it.

Carol shook her head.

"We didn't go," she said. "I don't think it's a good idea to go ahead and get it…we should wait."

Daryl frowned at her.

"Now listen here," he said sharply, reaching toward her to bring her face to look at him where she was staring now at the bed covers. As he reached out, though, Lincoln nipped at him, barely catching his hand with his teeth and immediately ducking his head like he was sorry at the action.

Daryl looked at the dog a moment. The nip hadn't actually hurt, but he was surprised. The dog playfully "chewed" on all of them, but never with any real effort to close his jaws and he certainly hadn't snapped at anyone, not even at Michonne's oldest rug rat and she pulled on his ears sometimes before they could stop her.

"Ya gon' bite me ya lil' asshole?" Daryl said to the dog. Carol hugged him against her.

"Don't! He didn't mean to!" She said.

Daryl frowned at her. She was worked up and that was obvious. The look in her eyes told him that she thought he was going to do something to the dog.

"Hey…I ain't gon' hurt'cha dog," Daryl said, careful to lower the tone of his voice. "I just can't believe the little fucker tried ta bite me."

Carol stroked the dog, running his ears through her fingers. She looked like she might start crying again and Daryl wished that the tears came with some kind of battery department that he could disconnect.

"He didn't mean to," Carol repeated.

Daryl thought he did mean to, though. He reached out slowly and petted the dog.

"Oh he meant to," Daryl said. "He's doin' what the fuck a good damn dog is s'posed ta do. He ain't liked my tone a' voice an' he let me fuckin' know it."

Carol didn't say anything to him. She just continued to run the dog's ears through her fingers, staring at the bed.

Daryl reached out slowly this time and tipped her face up to look at him.

"I was gonna say that my kid needs a fuckin' bed," Daryl said. "Can't put him on the couch like we done Andrea."

Carol's frown deepened again, but she was holding back the tears. Daryl had a good damn idea that he knew what she was thinking and he wanted to beat Ed Peletier literally to damn death for it too.

"Carol," Daryl said, "ya gotta stop…I'm tellin' ya that the fucker ain't gettin' to ya an' he ain't doin' shit ta my kid. I reckon he's fucked with ya enough. It's time ta stop lettin' him fuck with ya. Now ya can go with Andrea and Michonne…or hell I'll go with ya…but'cha gotta get the kid a bed an' ya gotta quit worryin' 'bout Ed's sorry ass."

Carol nodded a little.

"Put'cha damn dog down," Daryl said.

Carol looked at him, question in her eyes again. Daryl chuckled a little.

"Put him down so he don't bite my ass," Daryl explained. Carol put the dog on the bed and pushed him away a little. Lincoln was used to being pushed toward the foot of the bed and knew that was his cue to either get down or get out of the way. He apparently chose get out of the way because he went to the corner of the bed and curled up, looking in their direction.

Daryl moved around and took Carol by the shoulders, pushing her gently back onto the bed. She protested and moved stiffly at first but finally let herself go down. Daryl kissed her and she responded to the kiss, sighing into his mouth.

Daryl shifted around her, straddling her. He pushed up the bottom of the shirt she was wearing until he could just find the bottom of her bra and kissed the skin right up under it. He moved down, his tongue drawing a line from where he kissed down to her navel. She flinched and he knew that it must have tickled, but she wasn't protesting his actions in any way so he didn't stop. He kissed a small circle around her navel, enjoying the soft skin of her stomach against his lips.

"Where is it?" He asked, raising his head.

Carol was laid back on the bed, her eyes closed. When he spoke she turned her head just a little, looking down over her body to make eye contact with him.

"Where is what?" She asked.

"The baby," Daryl asked. "Where the fuck ya hidin' it at any way?"

Carol smiled at him. She unbuttoned the jeans and lifted her hips, pushing against him a little as she moved them down. Daryl tried to ignore, for the moment, that she was wearing lavender panties. He wondered if he was going to see more than the tops of them.

"I don't know…" Carol said. "Not exactly, somewhere in here."

Daryl watched where she rubbed her hand and then brought his lips there, trailing kisses across the area that made her jump a little. It was strange to him to think that somewhere…behind the skin that he knew was Carol's…there was, in theory, a little piece of both of them. Granted, it was a little piece that right now looked like it belonged to the insect family or maybe was something that you'd see in National Geographic, but it would one day be a baby.

The thought made Daryl's stomach clench a little, but he wasn't sure it was entirely in a bad way. It wasn't so much a negative thought that he'd had…as much as it was something he just felt like was entirely too big for him to swallow, even though he might like to.

He ran the gauntlet of kisses over the area again.

"It's a good place for it," Daryl said. "Safe in there an' probably pretty damn warm…ya like a fuckin' heater…'specially when ya sleep."

Carol chuckled a little and ran her fingers through his hair, still gazing at him from her position. Daryl lifted himself up to hover over her again and brought his lips back to hers. When they pulled apart he stayed there, looking at her eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen in his life. He felt like he could swim around in them if it were possible.

"Jesus…I love ya woman," Daryl said.

Carol smiled softly at him.

"And I love you," she said.

"I want'cha ta be happy," Daryl said. "I don't want'cha cryin' an' worryin'…"

Carol ran her fingers through his hair again. This time she brought his head down to meet hers and he sunk into the kiss, letting himself sink down over her. When they broke away Daryl could feel his whole body responding and wanting more of her, but he didn't know if she felt the same. She pushed up against him, though, wrestling with her shirt. He helped her pull it off and yanked his off as well, tossing it to the side while she freed her breasts from her bra.

"I promise," Carol said. "I'll try not to worry…I can't promise I won't worry…but I'll try not to."

Daryl sucked at her nipple, pinching it gently between his tongue and roof of his mouth, just behind his teeth. She gasped and he rolled his tongue. She bucked into him and he let go, suppressing a laugh.

"Still got our pants on," he said, softly.

Carol rolled her head to the side.

"Lincoln looks disgusted," she said.

"He'll learn not ta look," Daryl responded.

He knew that she hadn't worried the last she was going to worry about Ed. Neither had he for that matter. This was something that was going to hang over them, like some kind of cloud, until something resolved the problem in one way or another.

At least for the moment, though, he'd gotten her to realize that they had to just keep going…just like Michonne had told him out by the bike. They had to just keep living their lives. They couldn't give the fat bastard the satisfaction of knowing that he'd fucked up even one more day of Carol's life than he'd already fucked up.

Daryl was going to do everything he could to keep Ed from ever hurting Carol again…physically…mentally…emotionally. He didn't want Ed Peletier to ever have any control whatsoever over the woman he loved.

Carol shimmied out of her pants and Daryl abandoned his position long enough to shed his own. He sunk down on top of her again, his lips and teeth dancing around her neck and throat. She shivered and he smiled, coming up to crush his lips against hers again.

When she wrapped her legs around him he let her take the initiative and he reached down, guiding himself into her. She sighed and moved her arms back, above her head. He repeated his earlier action on her nipple as he began to move slowly and she started to match him, her breathing picking up already and her eyes closed.

They took their time…it was probably the longest that Daryl could ever remember them being connected, rocking gently together, but all things come to an end and he felt himself reaching that end. Carol had been quiet except for pants and moans, but he could feel her muscles tightening around him, warning him that she too was reaching the edge.

He brought his hand between them to help her the rest of the way and kissed her chin gently as she tipped her head back.

"Look at me," he said, working her.

Carol moaned at him but turned her head, her expression almost pained and her eyes dark as she locked her eyes on his and toppled over the side, her orgasm washing over her and sending her jerking beneath him, driving him to join her.

Daryl rolled off her as soon as he could, not wanting to push her down into the mattress with the force of his weight and he drug the tip of his tongue across her jaw bone before kissing the side of her face.

"We in this shit together, ain't we?" He asked when his breathing started to slow. Carol was still working to get control of hers and he watched her throat as she swallowed. She turned her face toward him and nodded, smiling a little. Daryl smiled at her. "I hope ya know it…" he said. "I really do love ya."

Carol smiled.

"I really do love you too," she said.


	86. Chapter 86

**AN: So here's a little something for you. It's been a busy day, but I did want to get this out. I'll have more sometime soon.**

**I did use some of your suggestions here, so just like I always thank you for your reviews and your wonderful comments that fuel me in the story, I also thank you for your analysis and your comments. Sometimes they are very helpful in planning some of the smaller details of the story! You're all awesome! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"I thought'cha hired my ass ta do construction work," Merle growled, looking out the window of the pickup truck.

Tyreese shook his head a little. He was, perhaps, shooting himself in the foot with this plan. He didn't know if Michonne would kill him or not when she heard that he'd taken Merle to pick up and deliver the bed and mattresses for Andrea in the moving truck he'd borrowed from a buddy for the occasion.

Everyone had the same idea about Merle. Leave him alone. He'd made his bed with his surly ass attitude so let him lie in it and enjoy the comfort. The problem was that the only comfort Tyreese knew the man was enjoying these days was Southern Comfort and it was wearing on everyone's nerves at work.

Merle hadn't exactly shown up drunk any…but he hadn't exactly shown up sober either. Most days he teetered in a state that lie somewhere in between until just around time to knock off for lunch and then apparently the crackers and Gatorade he downed alone in the shade was enough to knock that somewhat pleasant mood off and send him into the bitterness of a hangover that left him like a foul mouthed four year old for the rest of the day.

Frankly, Tyreese was running out of places to put him where he didn't disrupt the other workers and if getting him into the same space as Andrea might solve some of that problem, he was willing to face the wrath of Michonne…at least this once.

"Way I see it," Tyreese said, "is that I hired you to work for me…you're working for me. I didn't say I exclusively did construction."

"Didn't say ya was in the movin' business neither," Merle said.

Tyreese liked Daryl a good deal, and he honestly couldn't say he disliked Merle. Merle was an asshole, anyone knew that if they spent a few minutes in the man's company, but he wasn't as big of an asshole as he pretended to be. There had been a good period of time, at work, when Merle was more or less one of the favorites among the crew because his antics kept everyone entertained as they worked. That had just gone South somewhere.

"Today I am," Tyreese said.

"Who ya movin' shit for anyway?" Merle asked.

"For Michonne," Tyreese responded. He held his breath, already knowing what was coming next…some launch into the way that Michonne ran Tyreese's life no doubt. Any of the men who were involved knew that Merle, as soon as he found out, would begin to harass them.

"Figures…pussy whipped," Merle said shortly.

Tyreese chuckled. It hadn't been as bad as he'd thought it would be. Maybe Merle didn't get quite as sauced last night as he had other nights…or either he'd gotten more sauced and therefore didn't have the brain capacity to be his normal female hating self.

"Yep," Tyreese said. "That's me."

"Why the fuck ya so damn proud a' that shit? Ain't much of a man likes ta let the world know a woman's got him by the fuckin' balls," Merle said, looking in Tyreese's direction.

"Mmmm…depends on how you look at it, I suppose," Tyreese said. "I happen to like the woman who's got me by the balls as you put it. And a lot of people would say at least that's a man who doesn't suffer from a case of blue balls…there's a good side to just about anything."

Merle huffed at him and grunted something that Tyreese couldn't understand. Tyreese chuckled, knowing that Merle wasn't sure how to retaliate.

"Besides, I thought you'd appreciate it…it's an easier day than we would have had staying on site," Tyreese said. "I figured when we're done we could call it a day. Maybe drive down and check out that little place you're always haunting. Go for a drink or two…my treat."

Merle chuckled.

"Well, I ain't one ta pass up a wet whistle on the boss man's buck," Merle said.

"I didn't think you were…" Tyreese responded.

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Carol was feeling better than she had the day before about the whole situation with Ed. She had to repeat, like a mantra to herself, that he was still in jail and there was no reason to panic about him getting out any time soon. She'd moved on…she wasn't his property and he didn't have the right to terrify her any longer. She was beyond Ed Peletier.

She was far beyond Ed Peletier. She had a home that, sparsely furnished though it may be, made her happy. She had a dog that she was pretty sure was the cutest and smartest animal on the planet, even though he was given to mischief and chewed everything up that he could get his mouth on. She had jobs that put money in her pockets to pay the bills. She had wonderful friends, something she'd never had before. She had a wonderful boyfriend who, though he had his moments, treated her like a queen. And most exciting of all, she had a baby on the way…and Daryl was as supportive about it as she could have ever asked for him to be. Her life was good and it looked nothing like the life that she'd had when Ed was around. She'd moved past him.

Despite her attempts to be positive, though, and to continuously remind herself that Ed no longer had the means to terrify her, from time to time throughout the day he had crept into her mind and done his best to haunt her. It was enough that she was beginning to fear her own subconscious mind and what it might offer her in nightmares when she dared to sleep again.

She hadn't told Daryl that she'd barely slept the night before. Every time she closed her eyes, Ed was there. He was coming after, angrier than she'd ever seen him, ready to kill her. Once or twice when she'd dared to drift off she'd remembered moments of when she'd lost the baby after Ed had pushed her down the basement stairs. She'd woken up once, shaking, and woken Daryl, but she'd excused it saying that she'd dreamed she was falling out of the bed.

Daryl didn't want any of this to bother her. He kept promising that he'd protect her if Ed got out. He'd make sure that Ed stayed away from her.

She believed with all her heart that Daryl would want to protect her, and that he would if he could, but she knew that Daryl simply couldn't be there all the time, and that was what she feared most. Times like this…when he was at work and she was on her day off…Daryl wouldn't have been there if Ed had just showed up. Andrea was there…she was on the couch reading through one of their class books…but Andrea was just as capable as Carol was of fighting off Ed, even though she'd paint herself as Superwoman to try and make Carol feel better.

But Carol didn't want Daryl to know she thought about those things. She didn't want him to know that she was still dwelling on the situation, despite her best efforts, because she didn't want him to misinterpret her concern about Ed to be a doubt that she had in Daryl. That wasn't the case at all. She didn't doubt Daryl…she just knew how conniving Ed could be.

Carol had busied herself cleaning all day and currently she was scrubbing away in the kitchen. She glanced, for just a moment, at Andrea who was sitting on the couch in jeans and a sweater that Carol was certain had either belonged to some ex-boyfriend or had been bought second hand because it didn't fit at all. She was pouring over the book, her reading glasses down on the tip of her nose, and Carol laughed when she took her in.

Andrea glanced up.

"What are you laughing at?" Andrea asked, pushing her glasses up with the tip of finger. The action just made Carol laugh a little more.

"I don't know…you just look so…so _something_ sitting there. Is the book that interesting?" Carol asked.

The truth was they'd learned enough about their class to figure out that they could divide up assignments and inform each other well of the information that they had to cover and still get by. It wasn't so much what was in the books that ended up being important as the hands on activities that they did in class…and that was what really interested both of them the most anyway.

Andrea closed the book and put it on the back of the couch where Lincoln couldn't mistake it for a chew toy. She pulled her legs up under her and reached over, stroking the dog's head since he was keeping her company.

"Not really…not at all," Andrea said. "But if I have to read it I might as well pretend that I like it, right? I might just turn into a bookworm that way instead of having war flashbacks of high school English where I had to write fucking essays explaining why the hell the author wrote about this color curtains or some shit like that."

Carol snickered. She'd never minded school all that much, but Andrea had apparently hated it. Then again, she'd learned enough to imagine that her life when she was in high school and Andrea's life in high school were probably dramatically different…and Carol knew well enough that your home life had a way of affecting every single other avenue of your life.

"I can read that one if you want," Carol said, continuing with her cleaning, though she figured you could probably eat off any surface in the room by now.

"No, it's my turn," Andrea said. She was quiet for a minute. "This whole house smells like bleach, Carol…can we open a window or something? I think I'm getting a headache from it. I'm not used to shit being so damn clean."

Carol chuckled.

"It's really nice outside," Carol said. "You can open the windows if you want."

Andrea got up and started going around, Lincoln prancing behind her and wrongfully believing she might be going to get him something, opening the windows.

"Is that shit OK for the baby?" Andrea asked, heaving up the dining room windows that would open.

Carol hadn't thought about it…now that she did think of it, though, she wasn't sure that it was a good thing that she'd distracted herself from Ed by cleaning until she almost didn't have fingerprints and her eyes were burning.

"You know…I don't know…" Carol said.

"Jesus!" Andrea said, crossing into the kitchen to open the window over the sink. "I saw we open the windows and we go the fuck outside to sit in the yard with Lincoln. I'm going to die if I stay in here!"

Carol hadn't really noticed how strong the smell was, but now that Andrea called attention to it she was noticing that it really was almost suffocating. That's what you get when you decide it's a good idea to douse your entire home in various cleaning products. She left the rag right where it was on the counter and went to the sink, elbowing Andrea out of the way a little and washing her hands. They still smelled like bleach after she dried them and she felt the strange sort of panic that you get when you're beginning to suffocate.

"Let's go!" She said. She rushed to Lincoln's door and pulled it open, letting the dog out and stepping out behind him. Andrea followed on her feet and left the door open.

When they got into the yard, Lincoln bounded around sneezing at the ground and Carol wondered if the smell had irritated him as well. The rush of the fresh air was like a blessing, though, and she sucked in as much as she could. Andrea kept wiping at her nose as though she could wipe the smell out of it.

Finally they both calmed down and started laughing at each other.

"How long do you think it might have taken us to die in there before we realized we were suffocating?" Andrea asked. "My eyes were watering and I kept thinking that it was because I hated reading so much."

Carol didn't want to admit that she'd been having a hard time breathing and thought the whole time that it had been her subconscious mind causing her to panic over Ed.

As they stood in the yard, simply waiting for the breeze to be strong enough to flow through the house and push out all the fumes, Carol noticed a familiar face.

Axel came by, walking Juniper. He waved and smiled as he came near the fence and Lincoln launched himself in the direction. Juniper responded by yapping back to Lincoln's baying.

"How's it going?" Axel asked.

Carol walked toward the fence, Andrea hovering just behind her.

"It's going OK," Carol said. "How about yourself?"

"Can't complain," Axel said. "Even if I did, wouldn't nobody listen."

Carol chuckled in response.

"How are you liking the weather?" She asked.

Axel looked around a second.

"I always did love the fall," Axel said. "Ain't cold like the winter and ain't hot like the summer. Doesn't last too long, though. You ladies just out enjoyin' it?"

Carol giggled a little and glanced back toward Andrea who was standing there with her arms crossed but a slightly less concerned look on her face than she'd been wearing when Axel had first walked up.

"I ran us out of the house," Carol said. "I used too many cleaning products."

"It was damn near a homicide and suicide by bleach," Andrea said.

Axel chuckled.

"Dangerous things them chemicals. Once mixed ammonia and bleach together…didn't know you weren't supposed to do it until the shit started foaming and my eyes nearly burnt out my head! Won't make that mistake again," Axel said. He waved at Andrea who was a certain distance away from him. "I'm Axel, by the way…don't think we've met."

"Andrea," Andrea offered.

"You live here too?" Axel asked.

Andrea didn't respond and Carol wondered if she was suspicious of him because of all the madness going on around a one Mr. Philip Blake.

"She's staying for a little while," Carol said. She pointed toward Axel's house. "Axel lives over there in that house." Carol said to Andrea. She hoped identifying that they were neighbors, and making it clear that she was fairly certain that the man was harmless…except maybe with household chemicals…Andrea would realize that she'd at least met him before. Andrea did seem to loosen up a little and she walked over to chat with Carol and Axel from a closer distance.

The three of them talked about the houses, the weather, the neighbors that Axel had met but Carol still didn't know…and all the while Carol couldn't help but notice that Axel smiled a little brighter when he was talking to Andrea and he looked pleased when she laughed at any joke that he made. Carol wondered if Andrea was picking up on it too.

They got interrupted, though, when a moving truck rolled into the driveway.

"Looks like you got comp'ny," Axel said, tipping his head in the direction of the truck.

"A friend is delivering some furniture," Carol said.

"Need a hand?" Axel asked.

Carol hesitated a moment. If there was a spark of something between Axel and Andrea she was curious to see how it would play out. Axel seemed like a genuinely nice guy and she wondered what it would be like for Andrea to have something like that in her life. She was considering asking him to help Tyreese and the worker…just to get him to stay around a bit…until she realized the worker climbing out of the truck was Merle.

Carol tried to hide her irritation at the fact that Merle Dixon was in her driveway.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I think they'll be just fine…thank you for you offer, though."

"No problem," Axel said. "I guess we're goin' on about our walk now. Y'all have a nice evening," Axel said. He turned toward Andrea who was already glaring in Merle's direction. "It was nice to meet'cha, Andrea."

Andrea put on the biggest smile, suddenly, that Carol had ever seen her wear.

"It was nice to meet you too, Axel," Andrea said. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

Carol almost laughed. She realized Andrea was being a little louder, and a little friendlier, than she had to be, and she was doing it for Merle to overhear as he passed around to the back of the truck grumbling at Tyreese.

Axel waved and went on down the sidewalk and Carol let herself out of the fenced in part of the yard to walk over to the two men.

Tyreese greeted her with a hug and peck on the cheek.

"We got it all," he said. "Michonne said you could come and look at that dresser whenever you want. She found it in the attic. It's in pretty good shape, but it could use a coat of stain. I'd be happy to do it for you one weekend if you want me too."

Carol smiled at him.

"We'll see about it, thank you," she said. She looked at Merle who was beginning to drag the footboard out of the truck. Carol shot a questioning look at Tyreese, but he just looked nervous and swallowed, turning around to assist Merle.

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Andrea was glad that the smell had aired out enough that the house just smelled clean and not offensive. She didn't think she could take the headache inducing fumes coupled with the headache inducing mouth of Merle right now.

"So…ya shackin' up with my baby brothah now?" Merle said putting the bed together.

Andrea leaned back against the wall. She wasn't even pretending not to notice that Tyreese drug Carol away to talk to her about something…conveniently leaving her alone with Merle for him to assemble the bed.

Andrea huffed at Merle and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I'm shacking up with Daryl now. We're all one big happy fucking family," Andrea said. "We're considering taking in a third wife but we haven't read any applications we like yet."

Merle sucked his teeth and paused a minute in his working.

"I'll have ta let Daryl know who I been seein'," Merle said. "He seems ta like my handmedowns."

"Asshole," Andrea growled.

"You the damn one started this shit goin' off half fuckin' cocked like ya some kinda damn firecracker," Merle growled in response.

"You told me to get the fuck out and I got the fuck out," Andrea responded. "You're always saying women don't fucking listen…well I listened. You got what the hell you wanted. I would think you'd be happy."

She crossed her arms across her chest and felt her face get hot with anger and irritation. Merle looked up at her from where he was kneeling on one knee on the floor by the headboard of the bed.

"How long ya figurin' on stayin' here?" He asked.

"Until I find something better, I guess," Andrea said. "I don't see why you care."

"I don't care…" Merle responded. "Stay here as long as ya damn well please…take a first class trip back ta hell where ya come from…I don't give a shit."

Andrea threw her hands up in exasperation.

"See? That's what the hell I'm talking about! You don't care…so what are you even doing here?" Andrea asked. "You came to talk to me just to be an asshole?"

Merle got up, his work done. He walked close to her for a minute, the hammer he had been using clutched tight in his hand. He stopped barely a foot from her, bringing his face close to hers and she didn't know for a moment what he might do. He stared at her a minute, almost like he was contemplating kissing her or something equally out of character for Merle Dixon in a mood like he was in, and then he turned quickly.

"Don't flatter yaself, princess. Ain't here for you…here 'cause my damn boss is payin' me ta be here," Merle said as he walked out the room.

Andrea followed behind him. She wasn't sure what she'd seen in his eyes for that moment. The one thing she did know by now was that what Merle said and what Merle meant rarely matched each other. She wasn't a fool. She knew that Merle's asshole ways were a defense mechanism for him. They were like his shield against a world that he didn't fully understand and he didn't trust at all.

She knew these things about him and that was why she'd stayed with him for the time she'd stuck it out. She understood that underneath it all…underneath the complete and total dickhead that Merle was…there was someone else.

Merle would never be like Daryl was with Carol. He couldn't be. The dough was set and they simply weren't the same kind of biscuit.

But Merle wasn't a bad man. Andrea believed if any woman could ever figure out how to crack the crust that he'd perfected for so many years, underneath she'd find a man that could be caring…perhaps even sweet in his own way…it's just that she was pretty confident she wasn't that woman. She didn't have what it takes. What she did have wasn't good enough for Merle to give the inch it would take to crack enough for someone to work their way into the fissure.

Someone might one day get in there…someone might one day bring down, at least a little, the wall that he'd so lovingly constructed…but Andrea wasn't that someone. He'd have to at least somewhat want whoever did it to be in his life…and it was pretty clear that he didn't want her.

But just for a moment, when he'd paused there and she'd tried to figure out what he might do, she'd seen that flicker again behind his eyes. She'd seen that glimpse of the man that was hiding behind the wall, and she'd wondered if he was going to dare to venture out. In the end, though, the only man that had faced her had been the same one that always seemed to come out. The mask of an asshole that he'd worn so long she wasn't sure if he even knew it was just a shitty Halloween mask.

Andrea followed behind Merle quietly, keeping several feet behind him. When he got outside, he went directly to the truck. He didn't say goodbye to Carol and he didn't say anything to Tyreese. Andrea saw Tyreese shoot her a look and she just shook her head softly to keep him from asking her anything.

Tyreese sighed a little and told Carol goodbye. Andrea and Carol both thanked him for delivering the furniture, and then they stood side by side under the carport and watched as he got in the truck and the two men disappeared from sight.

Carol looked at Andrea and Andrea could see that, even without witnessing the conversation, Carol had figured out more or less how it had gone. Carol frowned at her a moment and then forced out a smile, reaching out and rubbing the top of her arm in the somewhat maternal fashion that Carol employed from time to time.

"Hey, you got a new bed!" Carol said. "Let's go get some sheets on it."

Andrea nodded and followed Carol inside, trying to put Merle out of her mind.

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**AN: So I wasn't sure how I was going to go with this chapter…at least not 100%...but several of you suggested the idea of Merle delivering the bed and I thought it was a chance to explore the characters a little more in their development. I was able to work it into the storyline that I have mapped out, so I did. Thanks for the suggestion! It probably wasn't exactly what you were thinking…but things happen how they happen…I hope you'll forgive me and know there's more to come! **


	87. Chapter 87

**AN: OK, here we go. A little update for those of you who wanted one. It's been a pretty long day here, and that's not always conducive to writing, but Sweet Junction has an odd way of making me feel better, even after a long day. Ha ha! **

**This one is not a Caryl centric chapter, either, but I promise there's plenty more of our favorite couple coming up! I'm going to try to get a chapter out for you tomorrow! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Tyreese sat in one of the cracked booths at the Watering Hole with Merle across from him. He had only had one shot so far, but he knew that he was likely to have too many to drive the truck back tonight. The good news was that he was fairly confident that Loretta wasn't going to raise too much of a ruckus if he needed to leave it there and he could only hope that someone else would be willing to come and pick him up so that he didn't have to disturb the girls by asking Michonne to come and pick him up past their bedtime.

Merle was quite a few drinks ahead of him. If for most people drinking was a long distance marathon, for Merle Dixon it was a sprint.

"Ya lil' woman comin' ta get'cha?" Merle asked with a chuckle.

Tyreese shook his head. He wouldn't dare call Michonne after nine to pick up from drinking…especially not on a weekday. He was already considering the next day a vacation day for him. He wasn't accustomed to drinking and if he had to call in sick it may not be much of a stretch. At least he rarely called in and T-Dog was good at helping to manage things on any days that he couldn't come in for one reason or another. Tyreese wondered if Merle would take the day off too.

"I don't need the excitement of shaking Michonne up," Tyreese said. She didn't mind if he drank…at least not really…but she would probably frown on his company at the very least.

"Ya somethin' else…" Merle said, shaking his head a little.

"What happened between you and Andrea?" Tyreese asked. He waved down Loretta who offered him a broad smile from across the bar and held her hand up to indicate that she'd be bringing more drinks for them within the minute.

Merle chuckled and toyed with one of the empty shot glasses that polluted his side of the table. Tyreese hoped that Loretta at least brought them a bottle to cut down on the number of glasses if nothing else.

"Weren't nothin' between us that could happen," Merle said. "I ain't like you…like Daryl…ain't lookin' for no lil' woman an' no instant made family."

Tyreese chuckled and nodded his head.

"I know you're not like me," Tyreese said. "I can't speak too much for Daryl…but I could have sworn that there was something there between you and Andrea. You lived together for a little while there."

"Bitch was shackin' up at my place…ain't meant nothin'," Merle said. "Good damn thing she's gone…tell the truth…she was startin' ta think she had the right ta act like she's my ole woman or somethin'."

"Mmm…" Tyreese responded. He paused a moment to thank Loretta when she brought them a bottle of whiskey and took away the unnecessary shot glasses littering the table. When she was gone he turned back to Merle. "No…I could see how a man like yourself wouldn't want anyone acting like his 'old woman'."

Tyreese wondered if Merle was too far gone to catch his sarcasm. Merle poured himself another drink, tossed it back, and looked at him sideways.

"I reckon you just eat up the damn idea yaself," Merle said.

Tyreese leaned to the side and burrowed in his pocket, coming up with the felt box that he'd been carrying around for the better part of two weeks as he thought time and time again about what might be the perfect way to go about asking Michonne to marry him. He cracked it open and showed it to Merle.

"I do…actually," Tyreese said. "Unlike you, Merle, I don't relish holding onto my bachelor lifestyle. The life of microwave dinners and dirty socks…it's not as glamorous for me as it is for you. I found something I like…now I've just got to figure out the perfect way to ask her so she thinks I'm as good a prize as she is."

Merle reached over and took the box out of Tyreese's hand and looked at it a minute. He chuckled and handed it back to Tyreese. Tyreese closed the little felt box and buried it deep in his pocket again where it would stay hidden until he finally solved for himself the puzzle of when, where, and how that had been plaguing him.

"Ya fuckin' balls ta the wall with this shit, ain't'cha?" Merle asked.

Tyreese nodded and poured himself a shot. The thing about Merle was that he didn't bother Tyreese. He didn't bother him at all…at least not with all his talk of manhood or lack thereof. Tyreese had seen him do a number on a few men at work, but that wasn't something that Tyreese felt threatened by.

"Damn sure am," Tyreese responded, throwing back his own shot and smiling at Merle.

"Ya really willin' ta just turn yaself over ta that woman like that? Give up every last damn bit a' yaself?" Merle asked. He took another shot and Tyreese joined him, chuckling.

"See…that's how you see it. The way I see it, though, is that I'm not giving a single thing up. I'm gaining something." Tyreese took another shot for good measure and leaned back in the booth, starting to enjoy himself and enjoy the atmosphere…he was even starting to enjoy Merle's surly ass. "Hell," Tyreese said. "I still do everything I did before…it's just now I get to do it with Michonne…or with the girls."

Merle didn't say anything. Tyreese looked at him, amused. Had he actually succeeded in making the legendary Merle Dixon speechless?

"Let me ask you something…" Tyreese said.

Merle cocked an eyebrow at him, still silent. Tyreese wondered if the man didn't know how to keep up his constant battle if there was no one playing back with him. He wasn't getting the response that he needed so he didn't know how to continue…

"What is it exactly that I'm supposed to be so damn scared of when it comes to marrying Michonne?" Tyreese asked.

Merle scoffed as though he'd asked a stupid question, but there was a long pause before the man poured himself another shot.

"Walkin' ya ass right into a bear trap," Merle said.

Tyreese chuckled.

"If marriage is a trap, and I'm asking her to marry me…it's not a very good trap is it?" Tyreese asked.

"See if ya singin' the same damn tune when she's drivin' ya ass fuckin' insane," Merle said, tipping an empty glass in Tyreese's direction.

Tyreese smiled.

"She already drives me insane," Tyreese said. "I love it, though."

Merle eyed him and grunted. Tyreese glanced around the bar at the crowd that was there. This wasn't the kind of place that he could frequent regularly. It just wasn't his speed. He was already getting anxious, actually, to call this an evening…especially since Merle seemed less interested in their conversation now that he could clearly see he wasn't going to get a rise out of Tyreese.

Tyreese checked his watch under the edge of the table. He figured about thirty more minutes and it would be fair to say that he needed to call someone…probably T-Dog to pick him up. He'd offer Merle a ride to his place, but he figured the man might stay here and drink. Tyreese assumed that if you didn't have any quality company waiting at home, the bar might be just as appealing as the silence.

He chuckled a little to himself, wondering why it was that men like Merle Dixon insisted so much on hanging onto that silence.

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"So I looked up this Philip Blake character," Michonne said. She was sharing lunch with Carol over her desk.

Carol frowned. Part of her wanted to know all there was to know about Philip Blake. She wanted to know what kind of man he was, what had led him to take Ed's case, what were the chances that he would get anywhere with the case…she wanted to know literally everything about the situation. The other part of her wanted to take the ostrich approach and ignore the fact that the man even existed and that he was trying to get Ed out of prison.

"What did you find out?" Carol asked.

Michonne shrugged a little.

"He's got an impressive track record, unfortunately, and he's handled a lot of criminal cases. Apparently our Mr. Blake has no aversion to playing with rats," Michonne said.

"So you're saying that he's got a good chance with this?" Carol asked.

Michonne nodded a little.

"I'm saying he's not a fish out of water," Michonne said. "This isn't anything new to him. He's worked appeals cases quite a few times."

Carol shivered a little at the thought. If he'd gotten other people off…for other crimes…then probably there'd be no issue for him getting Ed off in a case where she knew that things had actually been done somewhat against the grain. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

"Any idea how long?" Carol asked.

Michonne raised an eyebrow at her.

"How long what?" She asked.

"Until Ed gets out," Carol clarified.

Michonne frowned and shook her head.

"Now let's not go assuming that Ed's getting out," Michonne said. "His case hasn't even come up yet. Even when it does come up it's not something that's going to be automatic. He's not walking in the very near future even if he doesn't do all his time."

"Why do lawyers work for men like Ed?" Carol asked. She'd racked her brain since Michonne had told her about Philip Blake and the case that he was bringing to trial. She saw a lot of the things that crossed Michonne's desk and her father's desk and she understood many of the cases that they took. Most of them were just basic, everyday court cases. Things that normal people couldn't handle on their own. There weren't any bad people really…just circumstances that maybe got a little out of hand if anything.

Michonne shrugged.

"Money, Carol. That's why they do what they do. Philip Blake will drain everything that Ed's got financially…you can pretty much bank on that. He might buy Ed some time outside and he might stop him from having to give the money to you, but the money's just going to Blake in this situation. He probably doesn't do it for any real love of what he does, but if you work 'undesirable' cases you can charge bigger bucks because nobody wants them…and the better your reputation, the more you can charge," Michonne responded.

"And if Ed gets out and he…well…let's just say that he attacks me again…is it worth it to Philip Blake?" Carol asked. "How much money are we talking?"

Carol could feel a little of the panic she'd been swallowing down like daily bread rising in her chest and she took a few deep breaths to settle it. Michonne's frown deepened across the desk where they had their picnic of food spread out.

"Don't think like that, Carol," Michonne said. "It's not doing anyone any good for you to think like that. I don't know how much money it is, but people like Blake…the people willing to take the dirty cases for the dirty money…they don't think about anything else. They don't…well I hate to say anyone doesn't have any morals or ethics…but that's essentially what it boils down to. For Philip Blake it's nothing more than a paycheck and you and Ed both are nothing more than names on paper. It sucks, but there it is."

Carol nodded a little.

"So that's just it? There's nothing that we can do to counteract this? Nothing to make sure that Ed stays where he is?" Carol asked.

Michonne shook her head.

"This case doesn't have anything to do with you…at least not directly. Blake might make it about you, but that remains to be seen. This case is between Ed and the state of Georgia. There's nothing that anyone can do about it," Michonne said.

"Do you think Blake is going to drag me into it? I mean…am I supposed to be doing something…or not doing something? Is there anything that I can do to make this harder or easier?" Carol asked.

Michonne shrugged.

"Try making this easier on yourself and quit worrying about it," Michonne said. "I'm going to set up a little dinner date with Mr. Blake…I'm going to invite him to Daddy's as a sort of 'welcome to the neighborhood'…then I'm going to see if I can't get him to have lunch with me or something once he thinks I'm not digging for information. I want to see if he'll dare to talk about the case any. Maybe I can get a feel for his angle if he's loose lipped enough."

Carol sighed and Michonne smiled at her. It was Michonne's best attempt at a soft, comforting smile given the situation and given that Carol could tell that Michonne, despite her best efforts to pretend otherwise, was at least a little concerned about the case.

"Carol…this really isn't about you. I don't think that there's anything that you can do now to change anything that Blake may or may not use to Ed's benefit. If he's a decent lawyer, and his track record shows that he is, he's already got most of the shit that he's going to pull out of his magician's bag of tricks. You just keep living your life and don't worry about it. What's going to happen is going to happen and those are bridges that we'll cross when we get there," Michonne said.

Carol nodded her head a little at Michonne and picked at her food.

"Hey…" Michonne said. Carol looked at her. "Let's change the subject."

"Good idea," Carol said.

"Tyreese has been trying to chip away at the stone mountain that is Daryl's brother," Michonne said. "I told him that it's not worth it. I don't think there's any getting through his bullshit."

Carol shrugged a little.

"I don't know if there is or there isn't. Daryl's been avoiding him and I haven't been pushing him in Merle's direction," Carol said. "Merle's not good for Daryl and Daryl doesn't like what he does to him."

"There's credit to be had for Daryl that at least he sees that," Michonne said. "And he's doing something about it. That's admirable."

"It is," Carol said. "I can see it eats at Daryl too, though, that he's not around his brother. I think he's torn somewhere between feeling like he needs to do what's best for him…what's best for us…and feeling this loyalty to Merle. I think he feels like he's letting him down."

Michonne nodded her head a little.

"Maybe so…" Michonne said. "I don't know what to tell you…except make sure you're there for him. If he and Merle have always been there for each other, then it probably is rocky not to be together…make sure he knows you're there for him."

Carol scoffed at Michonne.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Carol said. "I'm there for Daryl when he needs me…I have to be careful how much I try to pull out of him when he's not ready to offer it. That's the quickest way I've learned to get Daryl to draw up into himself like some kind of emotional turtle."

Michonne shrugged.

"That's the best you can do, then. How's Andrea handling the whole Merle thing?" Michonne asked.

Carol shrugged.

"She doesn't ever say much about it," Carol said. "She seems to be handling it fine…I mean she's not some big ball of emotion. Then again it's not like Merle could have ever been accused of being warm and fuzzy."

"A teddy bear he's not," Michonne said.

"Truth is," Carol said. "There's this neighbor we've got. His name is Axel. He seems like a real sweetheart…a little on the simple side, maybe…but sweet nonetheless. I've noticed that the past couple of days he's made it a habit to linger a little when he passes the house and when Andrea's home I can't help but notice that she's made it habit to happen to let Lincoln outside when he's lingering near the fence. I'm kind of wondering if they might end up eventually working up to something."

"You think he's Andrea's speed?" Michonne asked.

Carol wasn't really sure what Andrea's speed was. She knew that the woman didn't want the same things out of life that she wanted. Andrea made it pretty clear that she wasn't nuts about the idea of children. She didn't seem opposed, at least not entirely, to the idea of marriage, but she wasn't just hell bent and determined to get married.

The truth was that Carol believed Andrea could have been happy with Merle, just like he was, if only he were able to admit that there was something there. It wasn't so much that she was looking for any big firework shows from the man, as much as she was searching, it seemed, for some confirmation. It was really something so small in the scheme of things, but it was something that Merle didn't seem willing to do.

Given that information, who could really say what Andrea's speed was? Furthermore, Carol wasn't sure what Axel's speed really was either. He had a small little house like hers and he shared it with an oversized Chihuahua that grunted when she walked. Who could say what he expected out of life, if he even had any expectations.

"I don't know if he's her speed or not," Carol admitted. "I don't know what Andrea really wants…I'm not even sure that she knows exactly. I think he might be a nice change of pace, though, if she gives him a go. If it works, great. If it doesn't, she hasn't really lost anything."

"So do you think they'll give it a go on their own?" Michonne asked. "Or is this operation intervention?"

Carol laughed.

"You love to meddle, don't you?" Carol asked, teasing her friend.

Michonne smiled softly, cocking one eyebrow at Carol.

"Some would call it meddling," Michonne said. "I prefer to think of it as assisting the directionally challenged. They're not sure where they should go…I am…so I help them get to the right place. Call it what you like."

Carol smiled and shook her head.

"I don't know…I think they might get there on their own," Carol said. "I've been considering trying to catch him one day before Andrea gets off work, though…maybe mention that she's recently single. Kind of give him the green light if he's not sure if he should ask her or not…"

"Now who's meddling?" Michonne asked with a smirk.

Carol smiled and shrugged, her concern over Ed and Philip Blake momentarily forgotten in the somewhat exciting thought of helping a friend find something good in their life.

"It's for a good cause…" Carol said.


	88. Chapter 88

**AN: Hello lovelies! I hope you all had a great day! Here's a little something for you in the world of Sweet Junction. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl tried to remind himself a few times that he'd asked for this. He hadn't been forced into it and hadn't been drug into it. He'd asked for it.

The waiting room was crowded…or at least he thought it was…and he didn't care for being crammed into one of the tight chairs with the wooden arms with so many people around. He felt like he was the only man in this entire fucking building and it was making him sweat a little.

He wasn't sure, time wise, how long he'd been waiting but he knew that he'd found Waldo four times. Either he'd been waiting a while or Waldo wasn't the sneaky little fucker that he thought he was.

Finally, though, the same nurse that he'd seen before, the first time he'd come with Carol, came and escorted him through the maze to a room. She smiled at him, dropping him off and going on through the maze, presumably toward some other destination.

Daryl went into the room. There was a doctor in there, one he'd never met. She was a woman who didn't look to be too much older than they were. She stretched a hand out at him when he came in the door. Daryl took it and offered it a quick shake, only later hoping that his hands weren't sweaty.

"I'm Dr. Peterson," the woman said, smiling. "I'm Carol's regular OBGYN…and you must be the father?"

Carol was on the table, her shirt pulled up and her pants pushed down and Daryl felt himself grow nervous. He didn't have any real reason to be nervous, but he really hated doctors and anything having to do with them and even though this was just supposed to be some kind of checkup thing the very smell of the place sort of had his stomach churning.

"Daryl," he said. He glanced around the room. The doctor smiled at him again and went back to whatever she'd been doing, prodding at Carol. Daryl struggled to swallow at least somewhat smoothly and looked at Carol who had her eyes glued to him. He could tell that she was trying to send him some sort of telepathic message or something, but he just couldn't read it.

"Well…" Dr. Peterson said. "We were right, you're short of the twelve week mark…probably eleven."

The woman looked at Daryl and he didn't know if he was supposed to respond to any of this. He hoped not because he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to say.

"Everything alright?" Daryl asked, looking at Carol and somewhat surprised that he'd found his own voice.

"Blood work looks good," Dr. Peterson said. "Everything looks good."

Daryl felt a little relieved and Carol smiled softly at him. He felt the knot in his stomach untangle a little, though there wasn't complete relief. He knew that wouldn't come until they were in the truck and leaving this place.

"Let's listen to the heartbeat, OK?" Dr. Peterson said.

Daryl watched the woman as she fiddled around setting up some kind of odd machine that almost looked to Daryl like an old cassette player or something. Carol reached a hand out to him and he felt her fingertips digging around at his hand before he realized what she wanted and offered her his hand. He watched the doctor carefully and listened to the odd sounds as she fiddled around with the wand of her cassette player on Carol's stomach. He felt Carol's hand tighten around his and he looked at her. She was staring at the ceiling and he thought she kind of looked like she might hurl. He hoped the doctor hurried up with whatever she was doing because Carol didn't give a whole lot of warning before she hurled these days.

Suddenly, though, Carol's grip loosened and Daryl looked back at the doctor who seemed pleased.

"There it is," she said.

Daryl focused in on the sound coming from the cassette player looking thing. He glanced at Carol and she was smiling.

"It's fast," Daryl said.

The doctor nodded at him.

"Fetal heartbeats are faster than ours," she said. "But it sounds just like it's supposed to sound."

It changed a little and she moved her wand.

"What happened?" Daryl asked.

He was more fascinated by this sound than he thought he'd be. When he asked to go with Carol it was more for confirmation…more something to ease his mind after the things that Merle had spouted off to him. He'd figured if he heard the heartbeat he could at least know for sure that the baby was in there. It was real and it had a heartbeat and he'd heard it.

Now, though, hearing it for himself, it was kind of strange. The knot in his stomach over being in the office had almost faded for the moment. That was his kid's heartbeat.

The doctor smiled at him again.

"Nothing happened," she said. "The baby just rolled away from me a little bit. Carol can't feel it yet because the baby's too small, but it moves around in there. She'll feel it before too very long, and then a while after that you'll be able to feel it."

Daryl was almost sad whenever the doctor turned off her little cassette player and put it away. Daryl listened, somewhat half-heartedly to most of what she was saying to Carol. He was busy thinking about the sound…about the whole thing. He thought back to what Hershel and he had spoken about, about when it started to feel real. It still didn't feel real, at least not entirely, but it felt different. He'd heard the kid's heartbeat. This wasn't just something they were talking about that may or may not exist…there was really something in there.

Daryl was still daydreaming when Carol sat up, repeating his name until he looked at her.

"Are you OK?" She asked.

Daryl realized he'd been kind of staring off into space and bit at his thumbnail, sorry for having drifted off like that and wondering what he'd missed.

"Fine," he said.

"Do you have any questions?" Dr. Peterson asked. Daryl realized she was directing her attention at him and not at Carol and he assumed that Carol had asked everything she wanted to know.

The truth was Daryl had a lot of questions, but he figured that they probably didn't have time for all of them and they were probably silly questions that he could ask Carol later.

Realizing he was biting at his thumb, Daryl dropped his hand and regarded the woman.

"So it's OK?" He asked. "Like everything's…how it's supposed to be?"

The doctor nodded at him.

"Just fine," she said.

"So…" Daryl hesitated. He didn't know if the question he was going to ask was a proper question or if it was one that he was even supposed to ask the doctor, but he wasn't likely to get a direct answer out of Carol…especially not with how moody she'd been since they'd found out about the whole situation with Ed. "Are we supposed ta start buyin' it stuff yet?" Daryl asked. "Like a crib an' stuff? I mean is it safe ta say we gon' keep it?"

Dr. Peterson looked at him and glanced quickly at Carol. She smiled at him again.

"You can prepare however you like…" the doctor said. "It's up to you when you buy a crib and everything else for the baby." She glanced back at Carol. "I know that Carol has had some concerns and there are never any guarantees in medicine, but your baby…at least as far as I can tell at this point…is healthy. There aren't any caution flags."

Daryl felt himself release a breath and he smiled. He nodded.

"Thank ya," he said to the doctor. He started to glance in Carol's direction, but then he felt his cheeks go red at the thought that maybe he wasn't supposed to ask the doctor something like that. The woman didn't look mad, though. She simply smiled at him, shook his hand again that he was sure was sweaty this time, and left.

It was only then that Daryl turned his attention back to Carol. She was standing now and readjusting her clothes.

"Ya good?" He asked.

Carol smiled at him and nodded. He could see that her eyes were glittering the way they did when she was thinking about crying but not letting it come out. He only hoped this was one of those good cries instead of one of the bad ones, though he was starting to think crying was just a hobby that she practiced from time to time. He'd come into the kitchen the other night to find her crying and when he'd asked her what was wrong she told him some story about finding one of Lincoln's baby teeth in his blanket or something equally strange. That had been pretty much the point when Daryl had decided that he would not understand the phenomenon of crying…ever.

"We gon' go then?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded at him again and started forward. He followed her out the door and through the labyrinth and once they'd reached the waiting area again he stood to the side while she dealt with the woman behind the desk. When she was done he walked her to the door and held the door open while she passed through into the bright sunlight of the parking lot.

"Well?" Carol asked as they walked through the parking lot.

"Deep subject for shallow minds," Daryl responded, snickering at the face she made at him. "What?"

"What did you think?" Carol asked.

Daryl walked around the truck and opened the door, waiting on her to crawl in. He stood there a second and held the truck door open. He shrugged.

"I don't know what I thought," he responded. "I mean…what was I s'posed ta think?"

Carol looked disappointed and Daryl smiled at her, reaching in to bump her chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger.

"Don't pout," he said, closing the truck door and circling around. He crawled in his side and closed the door.

"I don't know what you were supposed to think," Carol said with a sigh as she buckled her seatbelt. "I guess I just thought that you'd think something about it. I mean it was the first time you heard the heartbeat…"

Daryl leaned over and pulled her toward him, bringing his lips to hers. He hated when she was disappointed by something, but he had to admit that the facial expression she made was so damn cute that he almost wanted to disappoint her from time to time just to see it.

Carol wasn't expecting the kiss, but she responded back to him after a second, opening her mouth a little, more for breath than anything else, and Daryl took advantage to slip his tongue into her mouth and run a quick exploration. Carol responded by gliding her tongue against his and moaning a little.

Daryl pulled apart from her, chuckling a little.

"Gotta stop that shit," he said, smiling at her. "That's what the fuck got us here in the first place."

He cranked the truck and threw it into reverse.

"I thought it was pretty damn amazing ta hear the heart, OK?" He said, glancing over his shoulder and backing out. He glanced at her briefly as he stopped to drop the truck into drive and she was beaming.

"You did?" She asked.

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle at how damn pleased she looked.

"Yeah," he said. "I did."

Daryl pulled out of the parking lot and steered the truck toward town instead of in the direction that would have been quicker for getting back to their house.

"Where are we going?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Ya think I'm kidnappin' ya?" He responded.

"No…I don't think you're kidnapping me," Carol said, teasing him a little. "I just asked where we're going."

"Figured the kid might want some ice cream," Daryl said. "I got a hankerin' an' I figured since the kid had ta go ta the fuckin' doctor an' shit we'd get it some ice cream."

He glanced at Carol and she smiled at him.

"Reckon it wants it?" He asked.

Carol giggled.

"I supposed the baby might be convinced to have some ice cream," Carol said. "As long as it's OK if it's in a waffle cone."

Daryl chuckled.

"If my damn kid wants a waffle cone, I reckon that's what the little fucker gets," Daryl said.

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When they pulled up into the yard, Carol noticed that Axel was paying a visit to Andrea and she couldn't help but be pleased. Lincoln wasn't outside, but Axel and Andrea both were sitting on towels on the ground inside the fence, and Axel apparently had Juniper with him.

Carol crawled down out of the truck, not waiting on Daryl to come around. She was still working on the ice cream cone that she'd gotten since Daryl had insisted that she have technically enough to probably make her sick if she finished it. She'd considered offering what was left to Andrea or Daryl if she didn't want it.

Andrea looked over at her and Carol walked to the side of the fence, leaning just against it a little and shivering. It wasn't really cold outside, but the slight chill coupled with the ice cream was enough.

"How'd it go?" Andrea asked.

Carol smiled.

"It went great," she said. "Daryl got to hear the heartbeat."

Daryl walked around then and stood beside Carol, waving awkwardly at Andrea and Axel over the fence. This was the first time that Daryl had been home when Axel was making his rounds, so he hadn't met the man before, though he'd certainly heard about him.

"Daryl, this is Axel," Carol said. "Axel, this is Daryl."

"Nice to meet'cha," Axel said.

"Same," Daryl responded, nodding his head a little before diving back into the cone that he was almost done with.

"Where's my ice cream?" Andrea asked.

"Ain't brought'cha none," Daryl responded. "This weren't about you." He teased.

Carol punched him playfully on the arm and started to offer Andrea what was left of hers whenever Axel broke into the conversation.

"Ya know," he said. "If ya wanna go with me to take Juny back to the house…we could go and get some ice cream. Might grab a bite too. I ain't eat since lunch and eating out the vendin' machines leaves me a might peckish."

Carol watched as Andrea looked at him, the gears obviously turning in her head. Carol focused her attention on licking the ice cream that was dripping down her hand to keep from smiling at the offer.

"I'm not really dressed…" Andrea started to protest.

But Axel was a man who had his foot in the door and Carol could see he was going for it with enthusiasm. She almost wanted to hug him.

"Don't be silly," he said, interrupting Andrea. "I'm goin' like this and I still got mess on me from the mill. Just some burgers and ice cream."

Andrea smiled and nodded.

"OK," she said.

"OK?" Axel asked, starting to get to his feet.

Andrea's smile broadened and she nodded again.

"OK," she repeated. Axel offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet. Carol caught Andrea throwing her a glance but she didn't respond to it. She stood there, focusing far more on the mess her ice cream was creating than necessary, and waited until the two of them were out the gate and closing it behind them, heading in the direction of Axel's house.

"Have fun!" Carol called, trying not to sound as excited as she felt at the thought of it all. She turned after they were on their way and saw that Daryl was already under the carport and headed into the house. She jogged to catch up with him, almost skipping, and he waited by the door for her.

Daryl looked at her, a questioning grin painted on his face.

"What's that face all about?" He asked.

Carol smiled at him and handed him her ice cream cone as she slipped through the door he opened for her and pushed Lincoln back.

"Nothing," she said.

"Ya ain't gon' eat this?" He asked, stepping inside and looking at the cone she'd slipped into his hand.

"I'm done," she said. "Unless you want to suck the ice cream out and give me the rest of the cone?"

She leaned against the bar, almost excited enough to squeal at the thought that Axel was taking Andrea to get burgers and ice cream.

Daryl chuckled a little and dug his tongue into the leftover ice cream.

"Reckon I can do that," he said. "Ya coulda just given it to Andrea if ya didn't want it, though. There's enough here for her an' she wouldn'ta had ta go get no more."

Carol smiled.

"This way I get my waffle cone," Carol said. She grinned. "And Andrea gets ice cream _and_ a date."

"Ain't much of a date is it?" Daryl asked.

"It's enough," Carol said. "Now hurry up with that ice cream and we might have time for not much of a date before they back."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her and she laughed as he bit the bottom of the cone off and sucked the ice cream through that way. After a moment he grimaced and handed her the cone, not noticing that he was dripping it everywhere and Lincoln was running around on the floor like it was the most exciting day of his furry existence.

"Fuckin' brain freeze!" Daryl spat.

Carol laughed and took the cone from him, eating it quickly.

"You shouldn't have tried to swallow it whole," she said, her hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out parts of the cone and showering Lincoln in more ice cream bliss.

"Ya fuckin' tellin' me that we might have sex an' all I gotta do is eat the damn ice cream in a hurry…the fuck ya think I'ma do?" Daryl asked, still grimacing a little but with a hint of a smile forming.

Carol crunched the rest of the cone and Daryl stepped over the dog, already reaching his arms out toward her like he was going to grab her. She tried to chew fast enough not to choke over her desire to laugh at him.

"Eat faster woman! Ya got the damn easy part!" Daryl commanded.

"They've got to get to town…get food…eat…and get back," Carol protested, still finishing chewing and already heading in the direction of the bedroom with Daryl right behind her. "We've got time!"

"Not for all the shit I can think of, get movin'!" Daryl said. Carol laughed and rushed toward the bedroom, realizing Daryl wasn't even giving her time to wash the ice cream off her hands.

"I've got ice cream on me!" She protested again. "I'm sticky."

"I promise ya," Daryl said, "ain't gon' matter."


	89. Chapter 89

**AN: Here's a little something for you. Hopefully more to come before long! **

**I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! **

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Carol felt like her body was on fire, or at the very least, like she'd been electrocuted. Everything single nerve felt like it was on end. She knew she was going to be sore…she already was…but it was one of the best feelings in the world.

They'd already gone two rounds, and Carol felt like she was spent, but she had a feeling that if Andrea didn't make it back before he was ready for it, Daryl was going to be pushing for round three.

Even now, as they both lie on top of the mass of twisted blankets and tangled sheets, Daryl lying next to her, dragging his knuckles lazily and absentmindedly up and down her body, Carol couldn't believe he was real.

She could never go back to a lifestyle like the one she'd had with Ed. It seemed so long ago, and so far away. It was more like a bad nightmare…something conjured up from greasy food and a poorly chosen horror movie just before bed…than the memory of a part of her life.

That was the strangest thing about the mind and memory to Carol at times. Sometimes she drew up pictures, unexpectedly, of her life with Ed and it felt like she was right there. She was in the thick of it and it was all just moments behind her, and others it was almost blurry, like something seen through a thick fog, and if she hadn't known it had all happened and that her experiences were really her own, she might have believed she made it all up.

Carol sighed and moaned softly when Daryl's lips made contact with hers again. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of him softly kissing her, their tongues dancing lazily with each other as he ran his hand slowly up and down her arm, leaning over her. When he pulled away he dipped his head and nuzzled the side of her face, the sound of his breathing in her ear.

"Andrea's probably going to be back soon…" Carol said, surprised that her voice was coming out a little hoarse.

Daryl raised his head and smiled at her.

"Maybe not," Daryl said. "Maybe the fucker's gonna take her back ta his place."

Carol knew that Daryl didn't want to get out of bed. She was pretty sure, now, that he was indeed working toward a round three.

"I'm going to have to make dinner," she said. "We can't just stay in the bed for the rest of the day."

Daryl kissed her on the forehead. He looked more like a nap was in his future than round three, realistically, and she knew that he couldn't nap right now or he'd never sleep that night.

"Why not?" He asked. "Who the hell's gonna tell us we gotta get up?"

Carol giggled at the smile he was wearing. He could look so devilish when he wanted to.

"Mmm..." she moaned. "Lincoln's going to tell us we've got to get up…I'm going to have to go to the bathroom eventually too."

Daryl snickered.

"Then ya just go when ya let him out an' we'll call it a vacation. Don't mean we gotta get up for the whole rest a' the evenin'," Daryl said.

"What about food?" Carol asked. "Are we just going to starve to death?"

Daryl shook his head.

"We can order somethin'…Chinese…Korean…Pizza…whatever the fuck ya want," Daryl said. "Go ta the door just like this an' give the delivery guy some shit ta talk about."

"Chinese," Carol said.

Daryl snickered at her again.

"See how damn easy ya is to convince 'bout that shit? Now we ain't gotta go no damn where," Daryl said, kissing her again.

"Except the kitchen…" Carol said. "The menus and the phone are in there."

"Fuck," Daryl said. "There's always some damn wrench in the plans, ain't there?"

Carol laughed and sat up, yawning.

"Really," she said. "As beautiful and wonderful as it sounds…we can't just stay in the bed all day. We've got to be mature, responsible adults. Besides, I put the chicken out to defrost before we even went to the doctor. We're having chicken tonight."

Daryl sat up then, looking at her, his hand going to her thigh and squeezing. She could tell that even though he was feeling more amorous than usual, there was something on his mind. Daryl was a man who wore a very clear expression…especially somewhere around his eyes…when the wheels were really turning about something.

"Something wrong?" Carol asked, tipping her head to the side.

Daryl squeezed her thigh again and narrowed his eyes a little.

"Hearin' the baby…" he said. Carol nodded, her stomach sinking a little at already wondering what in the world could be coming. She was beginning to feel like if people had super powers her ability was whatever cursed one allowed her to think of all the possible worst case scenarios in the shortest amount of time. "Well…" Daryl continued. "I was thinkin' that it's my kid an' all an' I want it ta have my name…I mean I don't think we should name it Daryl or nothin' 'cause I don't like that fuckin' Junior shit…but it oughta be a Dixon."

Carol realized she was holding her breath and she let it out, smiling. She put her hand over his and and squeezed it, her finger tracing for a second the small tattoo there.

"Of course I was going to give the baby your name…" Carol said. "It's your baby, Daryl. I would never try to deny that in any way."

Daryl bit his lip.

"I been thinkin' 'bout what Beth Greene said," Daryl said. "We could get married…I mean ya know what else we really gotta do when we married that we ain't doin' already?"

Carol felt her stomach churn. She had no reason to believe things would change if they got married…or when they got married…or whatever the case might be. Part of her, though, the nagging part, reminded her that things had gone to hell with Ed when they got married. It had been the beginning of a life that she never, ever wanted to live again. And beyond that she worried that getting married might somehow jeopardize the things with Ed that were happening right now. She didn't know how they could, but the knowledge that Philip Blake was around…that he was somehow trying to figure out how to get Ed forgiven for his sins by the court of law…they had her worried that even sneezing was going to be held against her.

"I don't…know if that would be the best idea," Carol started.

She didn't manage to get much farther in her formation of thoughts. Daryl's hand remained under hers less than a fraction of a second and he pulled it away. Carol looked at his face and before she could even move to say anything else, she realized that Daryl had taken her statement entirely differently than she'd wanted it to come out.

His face had gone from contemplative to stormy in a matter of a fraction of a second and he was already turning to get off of the bed.

"No! No…no…" Carol started, trying to figure out how to say anything to stop him from losing his temper. She reached out, wrapping her arms around Daryl's arm, but he yanked loose and went immediately to the dresser, beginning to dress in an angry hurry. "No! I didn't mean it like that!" Carol spat, crawling toward the foot of the bed nearest where he was.

"How'd ya fuckin' mean it?" Daryl spat at her, not bothering to keep his voice low in any way.

"I just meant…" Carol could barely form thoughts around her despair now that she was realizing what was happening to him…what she did. "I'm so sorry! I just mean that with Ed…"

Daryl, who was dressed now except for his socks and shoes, turned around quickly, white hot anger flashing behind his eyes that was driven on by hurt at her carelessness.

"Ed?! Damn in, Carol!" Daryl yelled. He leaned toward her, his face not far from hers and his finger between the two of them, pointing at her. "I ain't fuckin' Ed! I know he was a fuckin' asshole and I hope he's gettin' ass fucked on the hour every damn hour that he's in that fuckin' prison. I hope the fucker never gets outta that jail cell, but I ain't gon' live the rest a' my damn life bein' compared ta the son of a bitch when I ain't done shit ta deserve it! Fuck Ed!"

Carol felt tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to suck them back.

"I didn't mean…" she started.

"Do not fuckin' start cryin'!" Daryl spat. "Jesus with the fuckin' cryin'! Fuck that shit too!"

Daryl turned and stormed out of the room, his socks in his hand. Carol heard him slamming around in the kitchen and she got up, pulling her shirt over her head and starting after him. When she rushed into the kitchen his hand was on the door and he had his shoes in the other.

"Where are you going?" She asked, not able to keep the tears back even though she knew they were just making it worse.

"Don't worry about it," Daryl said. He yanked open the door and disappeared outside without another word. Carol rushed to the door but Daryl was all but running down the driveway.

Carol knew that she had to let him go. She had to let him calm down. She leaned her elbows on the bar and let the tears flow freely now. She had fucked this up. It had been her and only her that was to blame for the fact that Daryl had gone off halfcocked, feeling rejected or worse.

When she finally got control of herself, Carol circled around the kitchen nervously, trying to figure out what to do. She didn't really know where Daryl was going at all. He could be going almost anywhere. It was hard to tell with him. She didn't know how she could make this right, but somehow she knew she had to. She had to get him to understand that it didn't have anything to do with him…that she wasn't rejecting him.

Carol noticed that Daryl had knocked several things over on the counter, and one of those things was the cookie jar that Michonne and Andrea had written her name on. She walked over, sitting the thing upright and looked inside.

In his rush he'd taken the the time to scrawl "Ed" on the pad and to break the pencil in half. The entire pad and the broken pencil had been slammed into her jar. She was going to have to figure out how to make this right and she was going to have to figure out what to do about Ed…even though he was gone and out of sight, he was still trying to ruin her life…and unfortunately she felt at the moment that she was letting him do it.

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By the time that Andrea came walking through the door, Carol wasn't sure what to do. She'd tried calling Merle but there'd been no answer at the apartment. She didn't know if she should just start calling other people or if that was just going to cause trouble.

"What the hell happened?" Andrea asked, coming through the door and finding Carol sitting at the table, red eyed, the phone in hand and tissues littering the table.

"I don't know where Daryl is," Carol said.

Andrea furrowed her brow.

"Did you fight or something? What's wrong?" Andrea asked.

Carol had been crying since he'd left. She needed to tell him she was sorry and she needed to try to explain herself…try to excuse herself…really anything. What she wanted was to take it back, but she couldn't do that.

"I told him I didn't think marrying him was a good idea," Carol said.

Andrea looked at her with the same kind of shock that she might have used if Carol had just reached out and slapped her. Andrea moved toward the table, pulled out a chair, and sat.

"You did what?" Andrea asked.

Carol shook her head. The more she thought about it the worse it sounded and the worse it got. She hadn't thought about it…she hadn't thought through what she wanted to say or how she wanted to say it. Daryl was right. She was forcing him to live in Ed's shadow and that wasn't fair to him. She was holding crimes against him that he hadn't committed.

"I told him that I didn't think it was a good idea for us to get married," Carol sobbed. "I didn't mean it…he got mad and he left…he didn't even let me explain."

Andrea looked at her and scoffed.

"Jesus Carol! What did you expect to happen?" Andrea asked. Carol didn't know what she expected from Andrea, but it was perhaps a little more support than her current tone of voice was offering. "Did you think you were going to tell him that you didn't want to marry him and then he'd sit down and listen to some kind of story before he got his feelings hurt?"

Andrea stood up and paced a little around the table, tangling her fingers in her curls as though she were as agitated about this as Carol was.

"I know! OK! I know!" Carol said.

Andrea chuckled, but it wasn't a sincere chuckle.

"To Daryl?! You said to Daryl that you weren't going to marry him? What the fuck are you even thinking?" Andrea asked, no less agitated than she was before. "I go away for a couple of hours and you can't even fuck like a good couple…no…you save that shit for when I'm here. It's better to do shit like tell Daryl you're not going to marry him!"

Carol sobbed and wiped at her nose with the already spent tissue in her hand.

"I know! Damn it, Andrea! I know! I can't find him to tell him sorry…" Carol said.

"Why would you even do that, Carol? You know how Daryl is. Do you even know how much courage it probably took for him to ask you? Dixon men and marriage don't go together…not at all…he went out on a fucking limb and you sawed it right out from under him!" Andrea said, stopping across the table from Carol and putting her hands on it.

"I was thinking about all the shit…" Carol stopped to suck in some breath and try to calm the shaking of her voice. "I was thinking about everything with Ed…and I didn't…he was so mad…"

"Of course he was mad!" Andrea shot back. "What would you have done if it was you? You're playing house together. This whole damn day was supposed to be about you and Daryl and this kid you're supposed to be having together…why would you do something as stupid as telling him that you wouldn't marry him?"

Carol shook her head. She didn't have anything else to say. Daryl deserved to be mad at her. He deserved to be hurt and furious and anything else that he felt. Hell, even Andrea deserved to be mad at her. She was mad at herself so anyone else who wanted to join was welcome to it.

"I don't even know if he'd just mad about what I said…or if it's because I said it was because of Ed…" Carol said. "He left a note in the cookie jar…or he left the whole pad…it just said Ed."

"God, Ed!" Andrea responded. She sat down at the table. "Get out from under Ed, Carol. Let sleeping dogs lie. Leave Ed where the hell he belonged. If we all went through life dragging every asshole around behind us that had ever been in front of us we'd never get any damn where!"

Carol nodded her head a little.

"What do I do?" She asked. "I don't know where he is…"

Andrea sighed and growled all at the same time.

"Leave him alone…" Andrea said. "He left a note in the fucking jar…he's coming back and he apparently wants to talk about it. Leave him alone until he's ready to talk about it. You basically cut the man's dick off…let him have some time to deal with it."

"Why are you mad?" Carol asked.

Andrea shook her head and chuckled.

"I'm not mad…well I am mad…it's just that it's so damn infuriating!" Andrea responded. "I'm not going to lie. I really want to slap you right now."

Carol put her head in her hands, her elbows on the table.

"Go ahead, I deserve it…I didn't mean for this to happen. It didn't even come out like I wanted it to," Carol said.

"How did you possibly think that it could come out in a good way?" Andrea asked. "What were you hoping for?"

"I don't know…" Carol said. "I just didn't mean for it to happen like this, OK?"

Andrea sighed. She got up from the table and started into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Carol asked.

"I'm making coffee…" Andrea said. "Real coffee. It's going to be a long damn night and I doubt I'm getting any sleep either. All I can tell you is that you better go and find some knee pads or some shit somewhere because you're going to be doing an awful lot of groveling when his ass comes through that door…and I'm sorry and you know I love you…but you deserve every mile he makes you walk on your knees."

Carol groaned, the tears finally starting to subside.

"I know…I know I do. I just hope he lets me make it up to him…somehow…" Carol said.

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The time seemed to drag by. For Carol, there was no way to distract herself from its passing. If they'd intended to do anything to make it pass, they hadn't. She and Andrea sat at the table together. Andrea sat with a mug of coffee between her hands that she kept refilling. If it had been actually caffeinated instead of merely offering the illusion of coffee, then Carol suspected she'd be bouncing around like a rubber ball by now.

Carol was drinking hot tea like its so called herbal properties were going to be able to do anything about what she was feeling. There was still no word from Daryl and she was afraid to call anyone from fear of making it worse somehow.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, her phone rang. She answered it and listened a moment as the voice on the other line, a woman, asked for Andrea.

Carol sighed and handed the phone to Andrea.

"For you," she said.

She returned her head to her hands and ran her fingers through her hair again. She'd never get the knots out of her hair that she'd put there throughout the evening.

When Andrea switched off the phone and put it on the table, she stood up.

"Get your shoes, we've got to go pick Daryl up," Andrea said. Her voice was an odd calm that was peculiar for Andrea, even when nothing was going on.

"That was Daryl? Who was that?" Carol asked.

Adnrea started through the kitchen to get her shoes where she'd kicked them off earlier and put them up on the fireplace to keep Lincoln from getting them.

"Get your shoes," Andrea said. "Daryl apparently got drunk and thought it would be a good idea to take his truck off the road somewhere. He's at the hospital and we need to go pick him up."

Carol felt her stomach lurch and she barely made it into the bathroom before spilling all the liquid she'd been consuming in her waiting. When she gathered herself together, Andrea was standing at the door on one leg, pulling a shoe on.

"Come on," Andrea said, her voice still calm. "Don't freak out. Daryl's fine or else we wouldn't be going to pick him up. He's probably just banged up a little. He was at least in his mind enough to still be holding a grudge or he wouldn't have asked them to call me instead of you."

Carol's stomach flip flopped again to match the sinking of her heart. She deserved this. She just hoped he wasn't hurt too badly. She deserved, though, however cold he felt like being to her.

Carol washed her hands and mouth quickly in the sink, drying off with the hand towel. She went to the bedroom and slipped into a pair of shoes under Andrea's watchful eye. She followed Andrea, then, through the house. Their purses collected and the doors locked, she followed Andrea to the car, already trying to figure out exactly what she might say or day to make him forgive her and praying that whatever it was that had happened was minor enough that it wasn't any lasting reminder to him of the asshole that she'd been.


	90. Chapter 90

**AN: Well, this is it for the night, but I thought I'd throw you a little more to the story.**

**As always, thank you all for your reviews and comments. I'm so glad that you're still enjoying the story! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think and I'll try to get you out another chapter tomorrow! **

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Carol sat staring out the window as Andrea drove to the hospital. If she hadn't been such an asshole…if she'd thought through things more…then they wouldn't even be taking this trip. She would have fixed dinner and they'd have had a good evening. Instead they were heading to the hospital to find out what had happened to Daryl and there was no telling what else was going to be waiting for them.

"Can you just explain one thing to me," Andrea said. As she drove she leaned her left elbow on the windowsill and rested her head against her hand. "Why would you tell Daryl you wouldn't marry him? You know how he is…you had to know he'd take it personally."

Carol could tell by Andrea's tone of voice that the woman was calmed down from her slightly elevated mood earlier. Now she was just driving along down the dark roads toward the hospital to pick Daryl up. The mood had passed.

Carol sighed.

"I just didn't think it all the way through," Carol said. "It's not that I meant…" she paused trying to figure out exactly how she wanted to say it. She was glad Andrea was asking, though, at least it would give her a chance to try and put into actual words what it was that she was struggling with understanding herself. "It's not that I meant I wouldn't ever marry him…but Ed…" Carol paused again, resting her forehead a second against the cool glass of the window.

"Ed what?" Andrea prodded.

"Ed wasn't always like he was…" Carol said. "I'm not stupid…I'm not glutton for punishment or anything like that. If I'd have known what Ed was really like…or what he was going to turn into…or whatever the hell it is that actually happened with Ed…then I wouldn't have married him. It wasn't like I wanted to be the abused housewife. I never grew up thinking that would be my life, OK?"

Andrea was quiet for a moment.

"Carol, I don't think anyone thinks you chose to be put in that situation," Andrea said. "I certainly don't think you chose it…but Daryl isn't like Ed."

Carol sighed again. She felt the choking sensation in her throat that came just before the tears tried to start and she swallowed a few times trying to fight it back. She didn't want to cry this time…she wanted to control that somehow.

"I know that Daryl isn't like Ed," Carol said. "But…I just keep thinking that I didn't think Ed was like Ed either."

Andrea sighed and Carol saw her twisting her hand on the steering wheel a little.

"Daryl's never going to be able to prove to you that he's not like Ed if you don't give him a chance," Andrea said. "And he's never going to have a chance without you taking some kind of chance. You've got to trust that he's not like Ed. Daryl's got a temper…but he'd never hit you."

Carol drug her fingers through her curls again remembering that whenever she tried to fight the tangled mess that she'd formed there it was going to be an epic battle…and it wasn't likely to get any better as what was probably going to be a very long night wore on.

"I just got divorced…" Carol said. "I just…Andrea I don't even know what to say. I just can't help but feel…worried or scared or whatever is the right word that I need here. I love Daryl…I really do…but I don't know that I'm ready to get married."

"But you're fine with living with him and having his kid?" Andrea said.

Carol sighed again, fighting back the tears. This wasn't her first battle with the thought of marrying Daryl. She'd gone through it time and time again with herself. She'd been dreading it simply because she didn't have the answer for herself. So many things with Daryl came down to her having to make them OK for him, and she never minded that, but it was hard to try to figure out how to explain something to Daryl that she couldn't even understand herself.

"Would you marry Merle?" Carol asked.

"This isn't about me and Merle," Andrea said.

"But would you marry Merle?" Carol repeated.

"Carol…Merle and Daryl aren't even in the same solar system," Andrea said. "If you needed a kidney, Daryl would offer you his before he even stopped to ask if he had one to spare. I couldn't even get Merle to say he kinda didn't want me to leave."

"But you stayed with him," Carol said. "You lived with him…if you'd ended up pregnant I know you wouldn't have been crazy about the idea, but would you have had his baby?"

Andrea growled.

"Fine, I'm just trying to understand this, but since you obviously don't want to talk about it then I'll just shut up and drive," Andrea said.

"That's not what I'm saying," Carol said. "I'm saying that it's not the commitment that I don't want…or that I'm afraid of…or whatever the hell the problem is. It's not being with Daryl that scares me. I'm not even scared of having a baby with him. It's the idea of marriage…that's what scares me."

Andrea didn't respond immediately so Carol continued, reasoning things out with herself.

"And what about Philip Blake? We don't even know what the rat bastard is up to," Carol said. "What if I married Daryl and somehow that worked against me? What if it helped Ed out?"

"How would you marrying Daryl help Ed out in any way?" Andrea asked.

Carol shook her head.

"I don't know…I really don't," Carol responded. "But I'm afraid it would and I don't want to do anything that might bring Ed back."

Carol looked over at Andrea in the darkness of the car and the blonde was chewing her lip, her eyes locked on the empty road in front of them as they made progress toward their destination.

"I don't have to marry Daryl to know how I feel about him," Carol said. "I don't have to marry him to want to be with him…to want this baby with him…I don't have to marry him and I'm not sure that I'm ready to marry him. Maybe one day…but I just don't think I'm there yet."

Andrea sighed and leaned back in her seat as though she was stretching her back out against it, locking her elbows and pushing herself away from the steering wheel.

"So tell him that," Andrea said. "You can't just say you don't want to marry him and leave it like that, though. Daryl's not built to handle that kind of rejection, Carol. He takes everything personally."

Carol leaned back in her seat and glanced out the window again.

"I wanted to tell him that," Carol said. "Except it didn't come out that way and he didn't give me the time to explain. I hurt him…I didn't mean to, but I did. And now here we are."

Andrea blew out a breath.

"Well…depending on what the hell he did to himself it looks like you'll probably have time to explain now," Andrea said.

Carol hoped that she would have time to explain and she hoped that Daryl was willing to hear her explanation. She knew that it didn't make perfect sense, but she couldn't get it to make any more sense than it did.

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When they got to the parking lot Carol felt like she'd run a marathon that day. She opened the car door and got out, slinging her purse over her shoulder and slamming the door shut before heading toward the large double doors. She saw the police cruiser parked in one of the first spaces and didn't even try to ignore when Rick Grimes got out upon seeing her and Andrea crossing the space.

"Carol Ann," Rick called, as though she might actually walk on past him and not assume he might have driven over from Sweet Junction to be involved in things.

Carol sighed and walked directly to him.

"Rick," she said as she approached.

Rick looked at her a moment like he wasn't sure what he wanted to say to her at all. It was almost as though she'd approached him off guard instead of like he'd been probably sitting there since even before the hospital had phoned her.

Rick sighed a little and Carol noticed that his breath fogged a little. It was the first time she became aware that it was cold outside and shiver ran through her at the realization.

"I talked to Michonne on my way over here," Rick said. "I wanted to talk to you."

Carol wasn't sure what it was or what he was going to say, but already the super power she had for jumping to the worst possible conclusions in the shortest span of time ever was kicking in and she was grateful that she hadn't eaten for most of the day or she might have vomited right there in the parking lot just for good measure.

"What is it?" She asked, fidgeting with her purse strap and trying not to freak out like she wanted to. She glanced around a moment and realized that Andrea had left them alone, going to smoke off to the side.

Rick put his hands on his hips and bit his lip. He glanced around as though he were checking to see if anyone was around. He lowered his voice and leaned into her a little.

"If I process this charge…" Rick started. "Daryl's record isn't clean, Carol."

Carol nodded, the sick feeling still hanging in her stomach.

"If anyone were to inquire about this," Rick asked. "Anyone in Sweet Junction…could I count on you to say that you handled it…fines and such…and leave it at that?"

Carol sucked in a deep breath. Rick Grimes didn't owe her any favors. Their families knew each other, they'd grown up together, and maybe he had some sort of affection for her simply for having known her all his life, but the man didn't owe her the favor of possibly putting his ass on the line to make her life better or easier. Someone else was calling in this favor, and she already knew who it was. In this moment, though, she was far too thankful for it to turn it down. Crooked law worked against them all…but it worked for them too.

Carol nodded.

"If anyone were to ask me anything," Carol said. "I'd just say that we did what we had to do."

Rick nodded. He looked at her sideways as though he were trying to judge what she was thinking by the fluorescent lights outside the hospital.

"Make sure this doesn't happen again," Rick said. "The next time he loses his license…he could go to jail…and it won't be cheap. I can't fix it if he does this again."

Carol nodded her head and sucked in another breath, a second shiver running through her.

"I understand," she said. "This isn't going to happen again."

Rick nodded a little and turned as though he was getting into the car. He stopped and turned just as his hand hit the handle.

"I already talked to him," Rick said. "I wrote everything up…don't say anything to him until you're in the car."

Carol nodded.

Rick opened the car door.

"Thank you," Carol said to him, keeping her voice low.

Rick nodded slightly in response.

"Don't mention it," he said. "And I mean that."

Carol turned and walked toward the hospital. Andrea was standing not far from the electric double doors waiting on her. She'd tell Andrea what had happened so that the woman wouldn't slip and give Rick away, she'd tell Daryl so that he wouldn't even dream of doing something like this again, and she'd thank Michonne for whatever favor she'd had to cash in, but she wouldn't mention this to another soul. She didn't have any way to actually thank Rick for this…but she could at least show him that when he put his ass on the line for her she wasn't going to let him get hit by a bus.

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When they'd gotten in the hospital, Daryl was ready to be released and was waiting to go with them. He'd signed things and taken care of everything. All that was probably going to haunt them from this part of the ordeal was the hospital bill since Hershel didn't exactly offer insurance to his farmhands. Carol didn't say anything though. At the moment the money wasn't what was important. Somehow they'd figure it out.

Daryl had a concussion and a sprained wrist. Minor injuries the nurse they spoke to said. They'd given him something, though he'd protested, and Carol wasn't sure if it was that or the alcohol, not sure how much he'd drunk, but she could tell that he wasn't entirely himself.

He was, however, enough in himself that he was clearly pissed off at her and not attempting to hide it in the slightest. He didn't speak to her the entire way to the car. She climbed in the back and let him have the front, ready for the ride back to Sweet Junction in which she doubted he would really speak to her.

Once they were on the road, Carol leaned up a little.

"I'm telling you both of this but it doesn't leave this car," Carol said. "And I mean no one…understand?"

Daryl didn't respond, but Carol knew he would have better since than to rat out Rick Grimes and Andrea quickly voiced her understanding.

"Rick isn't processing the accident," Carol said. "He's letting you off the hook for this one, Daryl. I don't know what strings Michonne pulled and I'm not asking, but if anyone asks either of you what happened you just say that we took care of all that needed to be taken care of and you leave it at that. If they keep talking fake a brain hemorrhage or whatever you've got to do to end the conversation, but leave it at we did what had to be done."

Andrea chuckled.

"I'm not saying shit to anyone. The more I get to know Michonne, the more I think she's got the fucking mafia in her pocket," Andrea said.

Carol sat back in her seat.

"She might," Carol said. "And if she does then I don't want to know about it, but I certainly don't want to end up on the hit list either."

They rode along in silence for a few minutes. Carol had a million things she wanted to say, but she didn't want to say them in the car. Andrea had already heard most of it, and she'd hear everything else one way or the other, but this was a conversation that Carol wanted to have in private with Daryl.

"So what happened?" Andrea asked.

"Whole damn thing's a crock a' shit," Daryl spat. "I weren't even fuckin' drunk. I had a couple drinks an' went for a drive. I weren't fuckin' payin' attention an' I ran off the road. Got the truck stuck in one a' them damn ditches off the backroad an' damn near flipped the fucker. Coulda gone straight fuckin' home if the good damn Samaritan that called the fuckin' hospital had a' just woke me the fuck up an' helped me get ahold a' some damn body."

"So we need to call someone about the truck tomorrow?" Andrea asked.

"Ya reckon you can pull that shit outta the ditch?" Daryl asked. "Fuck…what a fuckin' night."

Carol could tell his tongue was thick, but now she assumed it might be the combination of whatever a couple of drinks equaled mixed with whatever the hospital had given him.

"The important thing is you're alright," Carol offered. "We'll take care of the rest."

Daryl grunted something, but he didn't respond to her directly. She was going to pay for this and she was going to pay big…she had no doubts about it now.

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Andrea helped Carol get Daryl into bed. By the time they'd made it home the mixture of whatever was in his system was getting the better of him and they'd barely gotten him down the hall and into bed. He hadn't even protested when Andrea had helped Carol get him out of everything but his boxers and helped him get under the cover.

When Andrea was gone, Carol leaned over the bed.

Daryl wasn't asleep, but he wasn't really awake either. His eyes were cracked open and pretty glassy, and he had assumed the same facial expression as a codfish, opening and closing his mouth just a little. Carol knew he'd be asleep in a matter of minutes when she turned the light off and left him alone.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked.

Daryl blinked at her and swallowed. She'd already brought a cup in there and somewhere in the kitchen drawers Andrea had found an old straw from a drive through soda cup. Carol bent the straw slightly and offered him some of the water and he took it, swallowing far deeper than was necessary for the liquid.

"I'm fine," he grunted.

"I'm sorry, Daryl," Carol said. "And I want to explain what I was trying to say…it wasn't what you thought I was saying…" She felt the tears welling up again and she backed up, taking a breath and swallowing. If he didn't want her to cry then she wasn't going to cry. She pinched herself on the underside of the arm to distract her mind from wanting to tear up over the situation and it worked, at least for a minute.

Daryl was looking at her, glassy eyed, but he wasn't responding.

"I know that you don't want to talk about this right now, and it's not the right time, but I want to talk to you tomorrow. I'll take off work…I'll stay with you…but you need to talk to me and hear me out," Carol said.

Daryl grunted and made a face. He still looked angry and she nodded. She understood that he was angry. She'd hurt him, and she didn't even know how deep. On top of that she'd really been the cause of what had happened tonight. This whole thing was her fault and she knew it. She was responsible for all of it, and he had every right to be angry.

"I'll leave you alone," Carol said. "I just want you to know that I didn't mean it the way that you took it and I'm sorry."

Carol twisted the skin on the underside of her arm between her fingertips again to distract herself from the ache in her chest that was threatening to bring up the dreaded tears. She'd cry…she knew she couldn't hold it back for good…but at least she'd wait until she was on the couch and could do it was some sort of privacy.

Daryl nodded at her slightly, but offered no verbal response.

"We'll talk in the morning," Carol said. She leaned over and kissed Daryl on the temple. She wanted to do more. She wanted to crawl into the bed with him and wrap herself around him. She wanted to beg him to forgive her…but she wasn't going to do that now. "I love you," she said.

Daryl shifted a little and pulled the pillow under his head.

Carol nodded a little, understanding that he didn't want to respond to her. She turned and headed out of the bedroom, deciding to leave him alone for the night and work on her argument for the coming day. As she switched the light off, she heard him grunt behind her.

"Love ya," he said, low and gravelly. It wasn't much, but at least he was letting her know in some way that he didn't hate her. He was mad…she didn't know how mad exactly, but he was mad…but at least he was giving her something.

Carol took a deep breath and passed through the house to the living room. Andrea passed by her on her way to bed.

"Everything alright?" Andrea asked, concerned.

"It will be," Carol said, trying to force a smile and really wishing to just be alone so she could bury her face in the couch pillows and cry instead of repeatedly trying to distract herself with the various pinches.

"You want to sleep with me?" Andrea asked. "There's more than enough room…"

Carol shook her head.

"I'm fine," Carol said.

The crease between Andrea's brows deepened, but with another pinch Carol shook her head at Andrea.

"Really, Andrea," Carol said. "I'm fine. OK? Just go to sleep."

Carol didn't wait for Andrea to say anything else. She very nearly pushed past her and made the loop through the house, locking things up. She finally settled down on the couch and pulled the blanket down over her, calling Lincoln to come and share the space with her. Somehow everything would work out and she'd talk to Daryl in the morning. She was good at making messes, but she'd clean this one up, one way or the other.


	91. Chapter 91

**AN: So I figured you needed a little check in with Daryl here. I might try to get something out somewhere later tonight, I'm not sure if it'll be this fic or not, but I've got some things that need to be done around here right now.**

**It's really interesting to see how everyone's reacting to what our couple is going through right now. I guess for me, there's no good guy and there's no bad guy. There are two people who have issues to work out, and they're working them out as imperfectly as we all do sometimes. But I really do appreciate hearing (reading?) your perspectives on things. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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When Daryl woke up his head was pounding so bad that it didn't even feel like it belonged to him. He pulled himself up in the bed and slowly got up, the pounding making so ridiculous it was making his teeth feel like they were vibrating. He hoped to hell there was a bottle of aspirin or some shit in the bathroom because if there was he was going to take as much as he figured he could without killing himself.

The bathroom cabinet was a plethora of bottles of shit and Daryl found what he was looking for. He knew two was a typical dose so he figured four was fine. He palmed the pills, tossed them in his mouth and washed them down with the tap water.

Coming back into the bedroom he glanced at the fluorescent lights on the alarm clock. It wasn't even morning. It was afternoon by any standards.

Daryl sat down on the side of the bed and rested his pounding head in his hand. The other was all wrapped up and it ached but he could barely feel the ache of it over his head.

He'd fucked up the day before running his damn truck off the road. He regretted the hell out of that shit right now, but honestly it was about all the fuck he regretted when he thought about what had happened.

Carol didn't want to marry his ass. He wasn't good enough for her. She could call it whatever the hell she wanted, but what it boiled down to was the fact that he wasn't fucking good enough for her. He'd suspected it once upon a time and then he'd convinced himself that he was wrong. He'd told himself he was fucking brainwashed by Merle…by his old man…by every fucker that had ever made him feel like he was just a piece of shit…but he'd lied to himself. She'd basically said it. She might not have used the words exactly, but she'd said it.

When he'd stormed out of the house he didn't know what to do or where he was going. He'd thought about going to see Hershel at first, but Hershel Greene couldn't fix this shit. He'd thought about going to see Merle. Hell, he owed the bastard a fucking apology. Merle had called that shit in the air and Daryl had broken his jaw over it. Merle was an asshole, but he knew what the fuck he was talking about.

But Daryl hadn't seen anyone. He'd driven to the Water Ho and checked for Merle, but when the man wasn't there he'd sunk down into an empty booth by himself and thought while nursing the drinks that he ordered.

Carol didn't want to marry him and he wasn't wanting to hear shit about Ed Peletier. He didn't believe in hitting women. He'd never believed in hitting women, and he wouldn't ever hit Carol. That was just plain fact. In fact, he was pretty damn sure that if he'd had any inclination at all to give it a try, last night might have been the first damn time he'd have tried to knock her ass out, and he didn't even like the fact that he felt that way.

He'd spent his time at the bar thinking about the fact that he'd let himself think they could work this whole damn relationship out. He'd let himself actually start to think that they were going to get married and they were going to have kids…and they were going to live in the fucking fairytale that she'd created, the one that so closely resembled what the hell he thought it all ought to look like if you were one of the lucky ones that lived a life like Hershel and Miss Jo.

Except Carol didn't want to marry him. She'd play at the rest of the game, but then it was really all a game, wasn't it? It was really more or less the same damn thing that Merle and Andrea had been doing except the words were different. They'd live together, say they loved each other, but at the end of the day there wasn't any getting married. Carol wasn't willing to be his Miss Jo. She wasn't willing to stand up, like Miss Jo did, and admit that she was marrying a fuck up, but it was a fuck up she was willing to forgive and spend the rest of her life with…

It was like his asshole of a brother had always said. Women didn't marry Dixon men. That's not what they were good for. They were good for a roll in the hay, but at the end of the damn day they weren't some prince riding up to someone's castle to sweep them away. When the roll in the hay was done, it was on to greener pastures. Carol would play with his ass…but now he knew she was looking for something better and she was waiting to see when that prince was going to come riding up on his noble fucking steed.

And she could say that it was Ed, but what the hell was Daryl supposed to do with that shit anyway? He wasn't Ed Peletier. He couldn't do a damn thing about the man. Ed Peletier was in prison, and whether or not he stayed there, or whether or not some damn body even offed the son of a bitch, he'd always be there. Daryl knew well enough that the people who fuck with your head aren't gone, not even after they die.

But he couldn't change what Ed had done and he couldn't take that away, no matter how damn much he might want to. Ed was there, he'd been there, and there wasn't a damn thing that Daryl had to do with any of it. He could understand why Carol did some of the shit that he did and he could try to change shit or watch out for it. He understood why she looked panicked we he yelled and lost his temper. He even understood why she flinched if he moved around too damn much when he was mad. He understood that shit and he was fucking sorry for even reminding her of the asshole she'd been married to, but he couldn't take that away.

And him not marrying her wouldn't take that shit away either.

When Daryl left the Water Ho the alcohol in his system and the anger and hurt coursing through his veins had him thinking he was right in the first place. Carol didn't think he was good enough to marry. She was going to wait for some damn prince. But he didn't know what the fuck to do about it. Was he supposed to give up and just get the hell out of there like he should have done? He should have just stayed the fuck away when he'd left. He wanted to be with her and he was miserable without her, but it was going to be a lot fucking worse now. It was going to be a whole hell of a lot worse when he had a kid. The when the fucker did show up…the one that Carol would want to marry…the one that was good enough and she trusted not to be like fucking Ed Peletier…then he'd have to watch that fucker not only take Carol away but take his damn kid away too. The whole damn package. He'd have been better off to stay the fuck away and not even get a kid involved in this shit.

Still, he'd left the Water Ho, tipping his head at Loretta's jolly damn face, and walked out to the truck, not really knowing where the hell he was going. He didn't want to go see Merle. He couldn't take the fucker's smug "I told ya so". Merle had been smart enough to unload Andrea's ass.

And Daryl had thought Merle was being an asshole about it. He'd thought that Merle was fucked up for not being with Andrea and accepting that he'd found someone even though he thought he wouldn't ever find any damn body. But Merle had been the smart damn one. He'd known that eventually Andrea would move on…and hell, maybe she was.

So Daryl had just been driving empty back roads. The same stupid ass back roads he drove all the damn time. The same ones he'd driven taking Carol parking that night in the middle of damn nowhere. The whole damn time his mind just reminding him of all the shit that he'd known in the beginning and lied to himself about. All the shit that he knew now.

And the worst fucking thing about the whole situation was that he loved her. He knew he fucking loved her. He loved her like all those cheesy ass movies said he was supposed to. He loved her like Hershel Greene told him love was supposed to be. He loved here more than he even knew what to do with, but she didn't love him the same damn way. She didn't love him enough to want to marry him and she didn't love him enough to trust him, and that was what hurt more than any of it.

Carol didn't trust him. She didn't trust him to not be like Ed.

And somewhere around that realization he'd suddenly realized he'd drifted too deeply into his thoughts. He realized suddenly that he was driving too damn fast. He was trying to make the truck keep up with his thoughts and he'd drifted into the other lane. If his damn mind had been working at all he might have been just fine. He could have just slowed the fuck down and got back in his lane, but his brain wasn't thinking rationally. He'd jerked the wheel out of panic and the damn truck had gone off the road and damn near flipped sideways as he slammed into one of the deep ass ditches.

He hadn't realized it, though, until the ambulance was there and they were fucking with him and trying to get him to tell them who the hell he was and where he lived. He was almost back into himself when he got to the fucking hospital. He couldn't remember the number to Merle's apartment, so he'd finally given them the house number…it was burned into his damn brain…but he hadn't wanted Carol to come.

He didn't want her sympathy for having gotten hurt. He could do without her fucking sympathy and her "let me help you" bullshit. It almost made him angrier to think of her trying to help him just because he'd gotten hurt…just because he'd run the truck off the road…when he wouldn't have done that shit at all if he hadn't been so stark raving mad over the fact that she'd more or less let him know that she didn't trust him, and she wasn't planning on making this something that was going to last for fucking ever…this was just some damn kind of game, exactly what the hell Merle had called it a few times. She was just going to string him along like a cat with a mouse until she got tired of that shit and then he was out to the curve. He wasn't good enough to marry, he wasn't good enough for her, and he wasn't even a good enough man for her to believe that he wasn't going to be an epic asshole of Ed Peletier proportions.

Daryl got up from the bed, finally, and decided he needed to call someone to go and get the truck. He didn't know anyone who did towing, but someone in Sweet Junction had to offer those services. He couldn't be the only asshole that ever needed it. He saw how many drunk son of a bitches left the Water Ho on a regular basis and he wasn't even about to believe that he was the only person who ever ran a vehicle into a retaining ditch.

Daryl shuffled through the house trying not to step on the dog. He was pissed as fuck at Carol but it wasn't the dog's fault. The dog was good enough for her ass…

As Daryl made his way into the kitchen to start looking for the phone book he glanced and saw her sitting on the couch, reading something, and his blood boiled a little.

No, he wasn't like Ed Peletier…because if he was he didn't even want to know what he'd do to her right now.

"What do you need?" Carol called.

Daryl ignored her and kept looking. She was coming, though…coming to help him. Coming to probably cry about how he'd left and it had upset her because it didn't fit right into the fucking game that she was playing. She was so damn upset that he wasn't OK with the fact that she didn't think he was good enough and that she didn't believe that he wasn't Ed.

Daryl turned around as soon as he felt her hand on him. For a moment he got angry at himself. He loved this damn woman. Part of him wanted so damn bad to just forget the whole fucking thing. Part of him wanted to tell her it was all alright and he'd play the game for as long as she let him just to be with her…and he knew he wanted to play it as long as he could…but the other part was angry with her and angry with him for realizing this was a game and he really was going to get burned, just like Merle said. If he continued to play the game…the game he didn't want to end…then he was just setting himself up. He was consciously procrastinating when the pain would come, but it would come.

"There ain't no fuckin' phone book in this house?" Daryl asked.

Carol raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you need a phone book for?" She asked.

"Gotta find some damn body can get my truck outta that fuckin' ditch," Daryl said, trying not to let all the anger in his voice seep out. He didn't know what he wanted to do about the situation and he didn't know what was going to happen between them, but he wasn't going any damn where until he had a vehicle.

"Andrea already called Ron," Carol said. "He's taking your truck over to his shop. We can go over later and look at it. It's not a good idea for you to be driving right now so I thought that Andrea could drive the truck back if it's not too bad…"

Daryl growled. He didn't have a truck and now he was trapped with her and she was wearing that damn sad expression on her face that just pissed him off in the moment. He suddenly wanted to go back to bed.

Daryl pushed by her and started in the direction of the bedroom.

"Please, Daryl!" Carol called. "We need to talk about this!"

Daryl turned around. They had to talk about every damn thing. They talked and they talked and it seemed to help…or at least he thought it did until yesterday and now he wasn't so damn sure.

Daryl walked over and pulled the chair out from under the dining room table and sat down. If they were going to talk about this shit then they might as well get it over with. Maybe it would help him figure out what the fuck he was doing…what was the best move to make. Did he keep playing the game and postpone the pain, or did he just go ahead and accept it now?

Carol walked over and took a seat across from him. She looked at him and he didn't know which one of them was supposed to start, but he felt like she had a whole lot more to say in this damn situation, so he just waited.

"Daryl, I didn't mean I wouldn't marry you…" Carol said.

Daryl raised his eyebrows.

"Ya said ya didn't think it was a good damn idea ta marry me," Daryl said. "So what the fuck does that mean in your language, 'cause I'm thinkin' I don't speak that one."

"I meant right now, Daryl," Carol said. Daryl closed his eyes for a minute. Sweet Jesus he was not going to be able to keep his cool if she started crying. He was going to have to walk away to keep from choking her if she started that sobbing shit. He didn't know if it was supposed to make him feel sorry or what, but right now it was only going to piss him off. "I just don't think that right now is the right time. I need time, Daryl. I just got divorced from Ed…we haven't even been together that long and we've fought half the time we've been together…and with all this going on with Ed…"

"Stop! Just fuckin' stop!" Daryl said. "I can't take the shit with Ed right now. I ain't fuckin' Ed Peletier. I ain't never gonna be like him but I can't change not one damn thing that fucker ever did. Whether his ass rots in prison or he's on our fuckin' doorstep tomorrow don't change shit about you and me, Carol…or at least it ain't supposed to."

"I know that you're not Ed, Daryl, and I know that you're not like Ed. I can't help how I feel, though," Carol said.

Daryl shook his head.

"Ya can't help how ya feel…fine. So how do ya feel?" Daryl asked.

"I'm…I don't know, Daryl. I don't know if I'm scare or if I'm worried…I don't know, but when you say marriage it just seems overwhelming. What about you? Aren't you scared of it? When we moved in here you lost it over soap…" Carol said.

"I ain't scared a' gettin' married," Daryl said. He was feeling calmer already and he was starting to think the stupid fucking dining room table was magical or something. Either it was that or the fact that Carol seemed…maybe…like she wasn't singing exactly the same tune she'd been singing the day before. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking? "I been thinkin' 'bout it an' I just ain't scared a' marryin' ya. I can't figure out one damn thing that's gonna change 'sides ya gonna be my wife…an' everybody's gonna know it. Our house ain't gonna change…I ain't gonna change into no damn body different. You gonna be Carol Dixon…and I reckon if Lincoln's got a fuckin' last name we gonna change that shit too…but ain't nothin' really changin'. So what the fuck ya scared of if it ain't me?"

Daryl paused a minute and watched as Carol was obviously thinking through it.

"An' I swear to ya right now if ya fuckin' say Ed's name I'm gettin' up from this damn table," Daryl said.

"I just don't want things to go bad, Daryl. I don't want you to feel like you're trapped…I don't want you to think that…" Carol paused. "I don't want you to want out, Daryl. I don't want you to decide you hate me…"

"Damn it," Daryl said. "I asked ya ta marry me…I was the one that fuckin' asked, Carol. Ya don't want ta fuckin' marry me 'cause ya think ya gonna find some damn body better or 'cause ya don't fuckin' trust me…and that's the shit that really fuckin' hurts right there…then at least man the fuck up an' tell me that's your fuckin' problem, but don't turn this shit 'round on me. You the one, Carol, not me that's runnin' scared a' this shit."

"I do trust you," Carol said.

Daryl shook his head.

"No…ya don't," he said. "If ya trusted me then I wouldn't have ta hear shit about Ed all the fuckin' time."

Carol narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm sorry that I'm not as quick at getting over things in my life as you and your brother are," Carol said. "I haven't had years to put this behind me."

Now it was Daryl's turn to narrow his eyes at her.

"I ain't sayin' I'm perfect an' I got a shit ton a' problems too. Right now you got your fingers all up in one my own fuckin' wounds an' ya just diggin' around for gold or some shit…but it don't mean I don't want ta be with ya ass an' figure out how the hell ta make this shit work whether it means we got to sit every fuckin' day for the rest a' our damn lives across from this table an' talk about shit," Daryl said.

"And I'm fine with that too," Carol said. "You think I don't want to marry you because I don't trust you or I'm looking for someone else? Guess what, Daryl, that's the same voice in your head…it's the same one I have that makes me worried that when we get married things might work out the same way they did the last time I got married…The words are different but the voices are the same."

"And I'm tellin' ya that I ain't gonna turn into fuckin' Ed!" Daryl protested.

"And I'm telling you that even though I wasn't ready to get married, I'm not looking for anybody else…and I do trust you," Carol said. "Maybe it's me that I don't trust…I don't know what it is, Daryl…I do want to be with you. I want to be with you forever…and I want us to have a family together…and I want us to be just like Hershel Greene and Miss Jo and Dale and Irma. I want that…but I'm not sure I'm ready to get married."

Daryl sighed. He wasn't as mad…not really. The mad had dissolved. Now he was more frustrated or hurt. He didn't know what to do about this. More than the idea of marriage, he wondered if this was some kind of trap they were both caught in. It felt like there wasn't any escaping. Whichever way they turned there was something jumping up at one of them.

Daryl put his arms on the table and immediately became aware that though the aspirin he'd taken had done a good deal to relieve the thumping going on around his brain, his arm hurt now when he didn't think not to move it.

"Lemme ask ya somethin'," Daryl said. "How long ya reckon it's gonna take ya before ya think that'cha ready ta marry my ass…'cause I gotta figure out how long I think I can wait 'fore I'm too damn paranoid that this is some kinda fuckin' game an' ya just gonna up an' run off with some damn body 'cause ya know ya can do better than my ass."

Carol visibly bit the inside of her mouth. Daryl could see tears dampening her eyes, but he did at least have to give her credit that somehow she wasn't sobbing. He was grateful for that. He really couldn't take the sobbing…especially not right now…and he probably wouldn't even feel as calm as he did in the moment if it had been part of what was happening right now.

Carol looked around for a minute before taking a deep breath.

"I don't think that I can do any better than you…" Carol said. "And I don't know how to tell you how long it'll take me before I'm not worried anymore…the only thing I know to say is that I'm sorry…and I never meant to hurt your feelings or to make you feel like I don't love you or I don't want to be with you."

She was quiet for a moment and Daryl waited. It was obvious that she was going to say more but she was trying not to cry and he was willing to give her time if that's all she needed not to start bawling.

"I will marry you," Carol said. "I shouldn't have said that I wouldn't…I'll marry you."

Daryl thought about it. He didn't know if he was right or not, but he wondered if she was only agreeing to marry him to make him feel better. If she was placating him with the acceptance of the idea. Granted, it wouldn't change the fact that they got married…and it probably wouldn't change what ultimately happened in their lives, and at this moment he had no damn idea what that would be, but he didn't want her agreeing to marry him to placate him. He wasn't a small child and if she married him just so she could say she'd tried to make him happy, then he doubted he'd ever feel like it was something she really wanted to do.

Daryl wasn't really sure what to do in the situation at all. He wasn't even sure how he felt about it. He thought she was rejecting him completely…he thought she didn't think he was good enough…he thought she didn't trust him to be like Ed. Now he wasn't sure what he thought and what he didn't think. He was feeling mixed up enough that he doubted he'd know whether or not to scratch his watch or wind his ass.

He shook his head.

"I ain't askin' ya ta marry me no more," Daryl said.

Carol looked at him, a look of hurt or shock or something on her face.

"Are you serious?" She asked. "You don't want to marry me now?"

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't said that," he said. "But I ain't askin' ya now an' I don't want ta marry ya right now."

Daryl got up from the table. Whether or not she thought the conversation was over, it was over for him. He felt like ass and suddenly he felt like he'd been drug through hell he was so damn tired. Coming down off the pissed off feeling that had stayed with him even in his stupid medicated stupor of the night before had him feeling like he just wanted to put his heavy, throbbing head down. And even if they considered continuing the conversation, he didn't think he could go any farther…not right now…not until he'd had more time to even figure out how he really felt about the whole damn thing.

"Where are you going?" Carol asked, hitting her feet. Daryl could see her chest was heaving. "Please…Daryl…we've got to talk about this…."

"We done talked about it," Daryl said. "I ain't goin' no damn where so ya cool ya fuckin' jets. I'm goin' ta lay the fuck down 'cause my brain feels like it's gonna explode. You can go do whatever the hell it was ya was doin'. Ain't no damn body gettin' married today."

Daryl started toward the bedroom.

"So that's it?" Carol asked behind him, her voice cracking a little but thankfully clearer when she continued. "You just don't…we're not…" She sounded frustrated and Daryl though he could second that emotion at least. "You don't want to marry me?" She asked finally.

"Not right now," Daryl said. "Don't know if I might feel like it eventually. Reckon we'll just have ta see what happens."

Daryl went into the bedroom then, closing the door behind him to keep both Carol and the dog from following him. He lie down in the bed and thought, at first, that he'd probably just end up lying there and trying to make sense of all that was going on in his head…and he did that for a while, but after a bit, sleep won out over even the mess that his mind was.


	92. Chapter 92

**AN: So here's a little bit more to advance in our story. I might have something else out tonight, but I'm not making any promises. **

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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"Naked baby headed in your direction," Michonne called out. She heard the squeal and a moment later Tyreese appeared in the doorway with Angelica in his arms, wrapped in a towel, and laughing.

"Are you done with the pizza or you think you want more?" Tyreese asked.

Michonne shook her head, finishing with Celine's bath.

"I'm done, but this time could you put it in a Ziploc bag? When you just throw the whole box in the fridge then the pizza's all nasty tomorrow," Michonne said.

"Got it," Tyreese said. "Ziploc bag…no nasty pizza. Does she need a bottle?"

Michonne shook her head.

"I'm running on full so I'm just going to feed her. The jar on the second shelf is fresh from this morning, though. Could you make Angie's sippy cup?" Michonne asked.

Tyreese tipped the little girl up who had calmed down in his arms now and he kissed her forehead.

"Yeah, I'll bring it to the nursery," he said.

Michonne stood up and got Celine out of the tub, wrapping her in a towel to take her into the nursery. As she passed through the bathroom door and into the hallway she leaned in to Tyreese and he planted a soft kiss on her lips before putting Anjelica down to follow after her to get pajamas.

A little bit later Michonne sat in the rocking chair holding Celine while she fed her and Tyreese sat in the floor, Angelica in his lap with her sippy cup, and read her bedtime stories.

Michonne couldn't believe the man. She'd have thought he was some kind of hallucination but she wasn't on any drugs that she could say was causing it. It seemed that he was just perfect. Well…not perfect exactly…he had his faults…but he was perfect enough.

When Celine had lost interest in eating, Michonne burped her and rocked her until Tyreese had finished the story that he was reading. He glanced up at her and she nodded, letting him know that she was ready to put the girls down when he was.

Michonne got out the rocker and put Celine, who was already well on her way to being passed out, down in crib. She stood there a moment, bent over the railing, her hand on the little girl's chest. The ritual was one that she'd had to practice since the girl was a newborn. Going down wasn't her favorite thing in the world, but somehow she was fooled by the presence of a hand and some pressure into believing that you weren't actually suggesting she sleep on her own.

Anjelica was much less finicky about the whole ordeal. She liked her bedtime routine and she liked it to be done exactly the same way every night, but so long as it wasn't disturbed at all she went down without a single issue. Michonne feared a little of her obsessive nature had come through in the girl, but she supposed she could have inherited worse things.

When the girls were settled, both Michonne and Tyreese crept out of the nursery and no one so much as dared to exhale until they were in the hall and the door was quietly clicked closed. Michonne went straight into the bedroom and Tyreese went to lock up and check to make sure everything in the kitchen was turned off.

When he came into the bedroom, stripping down quickly to his underwear and folding up the pajamas he'd been wearing after work to put them on the dresser for the next day, Michonne couldn't help but smile at him.

"What?" He asked, glancing at her.

"Nothing," she said. "Just thinking how wonderful you are."

Tyreese glanced at the shirt in his hands.

"I'm wonderful because I'm folding my shirt up the way you asked me to? Or are you referring to my many other magnificent character qualities?" Tyreese asked.

Michonne snickered.

"I was mostly referring to your modesty," Michonne teased.

"Oh…well that's one of my strongest points," Tyreese teased back. He crossed the room and crawled into bed, waiting patiently for Michonne to finish her beauty rituals and make her way to bed.

When Michonne crawled under the covers, Tyreese's hand caught the side of her face before she was even settled and pulled her to him for a kiss. It was typical of him…it had become their ritual. It had taken, admittedly, a little adjusting on her part to get used to a new bedtime ritual, but now she had settled into it and it was comfortable and repeatable. The soft kiss when she got in bed. Then they'd talk about their days. Then the option was always open for a little something more that either could suggest before they called it a night until one of the girls woke them…or on some rare occasions…they actually got to sleep until morning.

"So tell me what's bothering you," Tyreese said immediately.

Michonne sighed and looked at him, rolling her eyes and he chuckled in response.

"Yeah…well, I figured as much," he said. "What's going on now in my _stories_, as my grandmother used to say?"

Michonne sighed again.

"Let's see…I talked to Andrea and it seems that Merle paid a visit to his darling baby brother but they talked alone in the bedroom. No one knows what the hell went on in there. Merle's still not being even halfway decent to Andrea. Then apparently Daryl decides that he thinks he needs to take Hershel Greene up on some offer he made when Daryl started working for him to let him stay in some over the garage apartment there so he and Carol can think about things," Michonne said.

Tyreese was quiet for a moment and Michonne knew he was processing things.

"Good," he said after a moment.

"Good?" Michonne said. "Did you hear a word I just said?"

Tyreese nodded.

"I did, Michonne, and I think it's as good as it's going to get," Tyreese said.

Michonne hoped her facial expression conveyed what she was trying to say to him in the moment without using words.

Tyreese chuckled at it and that was not the response that she was going for.

"Don't kill me," Tyreese said. "I'm going to say this in the nicest way possible…one of the things that I love most about you is that you will bend over backwards to help people. You're loyal and you love people and I know that you want to go around throwing fairy dust over the heads of every damn person you meet, but the truth of the matter is that those four are one big massive train wreck. It's only worse because somehow fate decided they should find each other. Every one of them is emotionally stunted, Michonne. You've led the horses to water but now if they drink it, or they stand in it, or they piss in it…they've got to make that call."

"He's going to move out, Tyreese," Michonne said. "He's going to go and move into some little apartment by himself on Hershel's farm…and Carol? She's just going to live in the house with Andrea and a baby and wonder if he's coming back? Honestly I don't even care what happens to Merle…"

Tyreese chuckled at her again and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him.

"Carol's going to do some changing because one way or another she's on her way to having a kid, whether Daryl's there or not. He's going to live on Hershel's farm…fine…you know he's just going to realize that he misses her. Maybe they've got to keep doing some kind of exotic dance to realize what the hell they really want. You can't change that, and they're the ones that have to figure it out," Tyreese said. "As for Andrea…she'll figure her shit out and she's there for Carol if Daryl doesn't decide to come back. Merle…well…Merle's hanging onto life but that's about it. I've been trying to figure out how to make therapy a part of the job requirement."

Now it was Michonne's turn to laugh. She snuggled down against Tyreese.

"If any of them went to therapy I think the doctor would run screaming," Michonne said.

"You're probably right," Tyreese responded. "And that's why you are not equipped to try to fix all four of them. Between that and this whole secret detective thing you've got going on with Philip Blake you're going to run yourself into the ground."

Tyreese leaned over and kissed the side of her head.

"And I'm not going to allow that. You're already too worked up over this and it's something you can't change. We're engaged and you won't even wear your rings or talk to me about how and when you want to do it because you're too worried about hurting someone's feelings," Tyreese said. "Well you're hurting mine."

"Don't do that," Michonne said. "Please don't."

"I'm just saying, Michonne, that if us being engaged hurts someone else's feelings because they can't figure out what to do with what they've got, then that's their problem. You not letting us be happy makes as much sense as someone refusing to drive their car because it's nicer than someone else's who refuses to upgrade with money they have in their hands," Tyreese said. "Andrea and Merle may or may not ever work a single damn thing out…Carol and Daryl might not either…but do we have to live the rest of our lives trying not to show them that we're not as ass backwards as they are?"

Michonne sighed. She knew what he was saying was true. They were happy together and he'd asked her to marry him, and she'd more than happily accepted.

Except she didn't feel good about telling Andrea and Carol…and they were really the only friends she had that were worth a damn in her opinion. She'd never been great at making friends…at least not real friends. The other people that wanted to call her a friend were often only in it for what she might be able to do for them when they wanted something or needed something from her. She didn't want to alienate either of the two women because she was happy and she was getting married and both of them seemed to be trapped in relationships that just didn't work out.

"You're right," Michonne said.

"I'm always right," Tyreese responded. "You've got to stop worrying. Wish your little birdies good luck and kick them out of the nest. They'll fall or they'll fly, but it's time to let them try one or the other."

"I know, but it's so frustrating," Michonne said. "I feel like if I could get them in a room and get them to really listen to me then I could solve this all."

"It's not that simple," Tyreese said. "You could talk until you can't breath, Michonne, but until they work out what they've got to work out for themselves they'll just end up right back where they are now."

Michonne knew it was right. There wasn't any fixing Merle and Andrea until anyone could figure out how to get Merle to wake up. Michonne and Andrea had done their best with Daryl and Carol, but it seemed like if they were left unattended for too long they figured out how to break out of their playpen and cause trouble. As much as Michonne wanted to just sit them all down like unruly toddlers and lay down the law for every last one of them, there just wasn't anything that could be done until they decided to clean up their own messes.

She really hated, though, thinking about how hard it was going to be for her to just sit back and watch what might very well happen.

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"So what's going on?" Michonne asked, appearing in the doorway to the petitioned off little office area of the law office.

Carol swiveled around in her chair a little surprised. She'd figured Michonne might emerge from hiding soon since she wasn't booked for anything until later, but she hadn't really been expecting her at that exact moment.

Carol sighed and leaned back in her chair, bobbing a little with the springs.

"Daryl left," she said. She shrugged a little. "He packed most of his things…not all of them…and then this morning when he was leaving for work he took the stuff out to the truck, he kissed me goodbye, and he told me that we had to figure things out."

Carol wasn't going to cry now. She'd already done that and frankly at the moment she was wondering if she was too dehydrated to cry. She'd done too much of it in the past couple of days, perhaps, and now her tear ducts were protesting.

"And you just let him go? Just like that?" Michonne asked.

"What was I supposed to do, Michonne? Hog tie him? I asked him to stay. I offered to keep sleeping on the couch until we figured it out or we worked through it or we got over it…or whatever is supposed to happen. I'm the one that screwed this up," Carol said. "If Daryl needs some space then I've got to give that to him."

"And what are you going to do?" Michonne asked.

Carol snickered at her.

"I'm going to keep answering your phones and making your appointments. I'm going to keep doing the hair courses with Andrea and working at Lula's on Saturday and at the Watering Hole on Friday and Saturday nights when Loretta needs me," Carol said. "I'm going to give Daryl his space and I'm going to keep going."

Carol shrugged.

"I don't know what you want me to do," Carol said.

Michonne sighed.

"I don't want you to do anything," Michonne said. "I guess you're doing what you can do. You've got to just keep going, I guess. Are you going to try to talk to him?"

Carol nodded. She really didn't know what was happening. She wasn't sure that Daryl knew. It wasn't that they really considered this being some kind of break up. It hadn't really happened that way. After she'd told him she'd marry him and he'd said he didn't know if he was ready…it had become strange. She'd tried to take care of him, but he didn't really want her to take care of him and he didn't really need it. Within a day he was perfectly fine other than the fact that his wrist still needed to heal and he was pissed that he'd damaged the truck and really didn't want to pay to get any of it done.

Daryl had talked to Merle, but Carol didn't really know what happened there. Merle had basically walked right past her and gone to the bedroom to hide and talk to Daryl and then we'd he'd left he'd just left.

And Daryl was being nice to her. It wasn't that they were engaged in some kind of epic battle where they hated each other. He'd been very calm when he'd told her that he thought he was moving to the little apartment. He'd told her that he planned to come back, but that he needed to get things straight in his head. He'd told her to let him know if she needed anything.

And she'd asked him to stay. She'd begged him to stay. But there wasn't anything else to be done. If he needed his space, then she had to give it to him. She'd been the one that had ruined everything. She'd let Ed influence her into ruining everything. He'd won again. But she couldn't force Daryl to stay and she couldn't even blame him if he didn't come back.

All she knew now was she just had to keep going. There wasn't any other option. She had to keep going and hope that he was going to get what he needed to get straightened out all done and he'd be back. She hoped he let her make it up to him, somehow. She hoped she got a chance not to be a dumbass and to tell him that she'd marry him. But he didn't want to marry her now, and she didn't have the right to push him after she'd been the first to tell him no.

"Of course I'm going to talk to him…I mean when I see him," Carol said. "But I'm not going to try to make him come back. He needs space and I need to give it to him. I did this, Michonne. I was the one that told him I didn't want to marry him and made him feel like I don't trust him. I'm not going to manipulate him into coming back. He can come back whenever he wants, just as freely as he walked out the door this morning."

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"Can I ask what happened, Daryl?" Hershel asked.

Hershel had led Daryl into the tiny apartment space they'd built above their garage for farmhands. For all intents and purposes it had everything a house had and everything that Daryl needed. He dropped the two bags onto the floor and looked around.

Apparently Miss Jo had come up there and cleaned it because it smelled like cleaner and there were fresh flowers on the tiny table.

"Ya can ask if ya want," Daryl said. "But with all due respect I don't want ta talk about it right now. Maybe later, but for the time being I'd just as soon keep it ta myself."

Hershel had been wearing the same concerned face since Daryl had asked him if the offer of the small space still remained. Daryl knew that he'd eventually talk to the old man, but for the time being he just didn't want to try to talk about it.

He couldn't stay in the house right now. Carol wasn't crying around him but she was crying. He could hear it at night, whether or not she knew it, and her eyes were constantly red. He didn't want her to feel, though, like she wasn't welcome in her own house. That wasn't his intention.

He needed some space to figure out if this was really going to work. He knew that he wanted it to work, but just because he wanted something didn't mean it would happen. Merle had come by, given him hell about wrecking the truck, and then he'd kind of told Merle what happened, trying to sugar coat the damn situation as much as he could. And Merle hadn't been any damn help. He'd told him to get the hell out of Dodge and leave her the fuck alone.

Merle had done nothing but reinforce what those voices in his head told him. She would one day find something better and be done with him. She didn't think he was good enough for her.

So Daryl didn't really know what he was doing, but he knew that he needed some space and he wasn't going to get that by forcing her to sleep on the couch while he took the bedroom and they cohabitated while simultaneously trying to avoid each other somewhat.

He needed to figure out if he was going to be comfortable marrying her or if he was always going to think that she was marrying him just to placate him, and maybe she needed to figure out if she really wanted to marry him or not. He'd tried to tell himself that the best case scenario was he got out here, got on his own, and he suddenly realized that he'd do absolutely anything to marry her because he absolutely, positively had to do it…no matter what the hell kind of trouble might come. Then he'd go back, like she'd told him he could, and he'd marry her and some damn way he'd learn not to worry that she was going to tell him to get the hell out of her life one day. Worst case scenario was that she confirmed his fears and found someone else…in which case…well at least he didn't marry her to have her tell him to get the hell out of her life.

Daryl was the one that was getting out right now. He was the one that had made that decision and he was the one that was laying down the rules. At least Merle couldn't say she was holding the reins on this one.

Thankfully neither of them was mad anymore. Daryl wasn't mad at Carol. He was hurt and he was confused as hell about what he wanted and what she wanted and if any of it was ever going to really work, but he wasn't angry. She said she wasn't angry, and she didn't seem angry. She was sorry and she seemed sad, but she wasn't angry.

So they'd parted this morning peacefully. Daryl had kissed her on his way out the door and she'd followed him out like she did every damn morning, standing under the carport while he loaded the back of the banged up pickup truck.

They hadn't parted with anger and neither of them took this to be some kind of final damn thing. Daryl knew that it might be, but that wasn't what the hell he was trying to see it as. They were just going to take the time they were trying to spend apart by sleeping in separate rooms and they were going to figure out what the hell they really wanted to do. Then he'd head back and they'd sit down and put their cards on the table.

Daryl glanced at Hershel, realizing he was chewing on his cuticle, and shook his head at the old man's face.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Hershel," Daryl said. "Ain't nothin' ta talk about right now. I'ma get on ta work. Maybe we'll talk later."

Daryl pushed by the old man and let himself down the narrow stairwell. He couldn't do everything that his position as a farmhand demanded, thanks to his decision to fuck up his wrist, but he could still work and he had damn well better get on it.

At least he thought better when he was working, so that was a bonus, since he had a whole lot of shit to think about and the sooner he got on that the sooner he figured out what the hell was going to come of his life.


	93. Chapter 93

**AN: Just a little something for the morning. I've got lots of grading to do around here, but I might try to get something out later. **

**As always, I thank you all for your comments and reviews. I'm glad to see everyone is invested enough in the story to have some personal opinions on all that is taking place! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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Carol sat perched on the bathroom counter while Andrea did her make up. She was going to the Wagon Wheel…a steakhouse in the next town…with Axel and she was already running behind.

"So second date…" Carol said, "Pretty exciting."

Andrea paused in putting on her mascara and looked at Carol.

"I feel bad leaving you alone here. Are you sure you don't want to go?" Andrea asked.

Carol chuckled.

"Last time I checked it wasn't very nice to bring someone on a date with you. Besides, I'm fine. You can't drag me around with you like an annoying sister to everything," Carol said.

It had been four days since Daryl had left and Carol felt like Michonne asked every ten minutes if she was OK at work and Andrea took over duty whenever they were both home. She hadn't been alone enough during the day to not be OK.

Carol didn't really know how to answer the question anyway. She wasn't sure how she felt about the whole thing. She missed Daryl…she missed having him around. She missed his antics. She didn't miss the Daryl that had been annoyed with her about the whole marriage thing, but she missed the Daryl that was around before that.

She wasn't going to push him, though. If he needed space and he needed time then she'd figured out she was fine with that and she wasn't going to encroach upon that at all. She'd be fine until he got back and she tried not to think too much about the possibility that he might not come back. It was only when she really thought about that possibility that she started to feel terrible again about the whole thing.

She'd already beat herself up about the fact that she'd told him, in the first place that she wouldn't marry him, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it anymore. She'd gone and put her foot in her mouth and it had bit her in the ass. Now that was simply something she was going to have to deal with.

"So tell me about Axel," Carol said.

Andrea finished her make up and started toward her room to finish getting ready. Carol followed after her.

"What do you want to know?" Andrea asked. "There's really not that much to tell. I don't know that much about him myself. He's single…he loves that damn dog…he works at the mill. He's pretty plain."

Carol frowned.

"Plain bad?" She asked.

"Plain…just plain. Plain there isn't much to tell," Andrea said with a shrug, digging around in a small cardboard box she'd found somewhere and put her jewelry in. She came up with earrings and Carol watched as she put them on.

"Well did he kiss you or anything?" Carol asked. She felt bad now to think that with all the excitement with Daryl she hadn't even asked Andrea how her little hamburger and ice cream date had gone with Axel. She'd let it slip her mind completely.

Andrea shook her head.

"No, nothing like that. I mean we just went for burgers and ice cream. It was about the same as going on a date with you," Andrea said.

"Maybe tonight," Carol said.

Andrea shrugged.

"Maybe…I'm not rushing it," Andrea said. "I'm not rushing a single damn thing. He can drive this bus…I'm just along for the ride. It's a free meal, right?"

Carol sighed.

"Yeah…it's a free meal, if that's what you want to think of it as," Carol said. "He seems nice, though."

"Oh, I think he is," Andrea said. "At least from what I can tell. I guess time will tell what kinds of skeletons he's got hiding in his closet."

Andrea spritzed herself with perfume and Carol tasted it in the air.

"How do you know he's got skeletons?" Carol asked. "He might not."

She followed Andrea now as she made her way back through the house and toward the kitchen area, presumably to wait for Axel.

"Everyone's got skeletons, Carol," Andrea said. "It's just that some keep them tucked farther back in the closet than others. They all get out and dance a little jig eventually though."

"I guess you're right," Carol said.

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Daryl sat in the rocking chair on the front porch of the Greene farm with his boot up on the railing and the chair kicked back, smoking a cigarette.

Hershel sat a few feet from him, quiet, drinking from the mug of hot apple cider that he held in his hands and looking out in the darkness. He'd asked Daryl more than once if he was interested in talking about what had happened with Carol, but Daryl wasn't really ready to talk about it yet.

He wasn't sure that there was anything to talk about, or if there was he hadn't figured out exactly how he wanted to go about discussing it.

For the moment he wasn't regretting his decision to step away. He didn't mind the little apartment and he didn't mind the silence. Daryl had never been on any kind of vacation, but he'd heard about them, and he thought this might be what vacation was like. His little apartment was quiet and it occurred to him that he'd never been alone in his life before, not really alone. He'd always had someone around or at least had the promise that they were coming around.

In the days since he'd been there, though, he hadn't seen anyone besides the Greenes and the one or two farm hands that worked part time.

And so far he hadn't felt too much like he missed Carol. He missed her at night, and he was grateful that the little bed in his space was small enough that he didn't feel like she should be there. Since she'd never been in the space it didn't feel like she was missing from it. It seemed, for the time being, that she was almost like everyone else, just a memory suspended in time somewhere…something he'd get back to when he was ready to open that box again.

Daryl dropped his boot and pick up the mug of cider that was resting on the porch railing. He drank from it, liking the warmth of the liquid actually far more than the flavor. He lit another cigarette absently and yawned a little.

"Everything alright tonight?" Hershel asked.

Daryl turned his head toward the old man, having forgotten for a moment in the peacefulness of the autumn night that he wasn't alone on the porch.

"Fine," Daryl grunted.

"Nothing you want to talk about?" Hershel asked.

Daryl grunted in the negative and heard the squeak as Hershel rocked the chair he was sitting in.

"Tomorrow's your day off," Hershel said. "You got any big plans?"

Daryl had forgotten it was Saturday. He hadn't really had anything going on here to keep track of the days. It wasn't like there was anyone else's schedule that he had to keep up with.

"No," Daryl said.

Hershel grunted something.

"Well Miss Jo and I will be leaving early for church. You're welcome to come with us if you like. I'm sure Jo will leave biscuits on the stove for your breakfast if you've got a mind to eat something in the morning," Hershel said.

"If it's all the same ta ya, I don't reckon I'm goin' into church," Daryl responded.

Hershel didn't respond, but he didn't tell Daryl that he had to go, so Daryl assumed that case was closed.

"Going into town to see anyone?" Hershel asked.

Now Daryl realized that under the guise of idle chitchat the old man was trying to pry for information. Daryl wasn't going into town, or at least he hadn't planned on it. He'd be just as content staying where he was for the time being.

He knew that Hershel wanted to know if he was going to see Carol, but he didn't have any intention of going to see her just yet. If she was going to be sobby and ask him to come back, then he wasn't prepared to deal with it at the moment. He'd go back eventually, but he wasn't there yet. He didn't want her to want him back just to fill some space that had been left in her house…to fill some role that was just now empty.

"No," Daryl said. "Might go down to the pond. Ya mind if I borrow ya pole?"

"I don't mind," Hershel said. "I don't know how much you'll catch out there, but if you get a mess of Brim then we might do a fish fry tomorrow. I have to spend part of the evening working on planning for the Pumpkin Festival, so I'll be gone most of the day."

Daryl grunted his response and drained the rest of the mug that he was holding.

A moment later the porch light flashed and Hershel chuckled to himself.

"That's my cue," Hershel said. He stood up and reached toward Daryl, taking the mug. "Time for an old timer like myself to hit the hay. Goodnight, Daryl."

"Night," Daryl said, staying seated until he heard the doors clap and the lights went off.

Daryl got to his feet and made his way to the little apartment space that he occupied for the time. He undressed and got into bed, tired from the day…the silence of the room wrapping around him just as much as the quilt from the bed.

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The restaurant that Philip Blake had chosen was a typical place that Michonne had gone when she was dining with other lawyers or when you wanted to take someone somewhere to impress them, but it wasn't somewhere that she frequented often.

The rich décor and the dress code were a stark contrast from the plastic table cloths of most of the establishments in Sweet Junction and she'd had to drive a full forty five minutes just arrive. It was the first time in a long time that she'd been out this late, alone, and not been next to panicked that someone wouldn't know that at night Angelica only liked the purple sippy cup and Celine wouldn't just go down like her sister, but she felt confident tonight that Tyreese was fine with the girls. He knew their routines almost as well as she did at this point.

She was also somewhat pleased that the dress she was wearing, which hadn't been out of the back of the closet in some time, confirmed that she had lost most of those damn ten pounds that had been plaguing her since Celine was born.

Michonne made her way to the host podium and told the gentleman standing there that she was looking for Philip Blake. She'd met the man once since the whole fiasco had been found out about Ed, but she was still confident that she couldn't pick him out of four people. The host smiled at her and escorted her to the table where Blake was already sitting. As she approached he smiled and got up, pulling her seat out for her and denying the host the one act that typically won him some kind of tip on their way out the door.

"Ms. Williams, you look lovely tonight," Philip Blake said when they were settled.

Michonne was taken aback for a second. She wasn't used to being complimented by some random lawyer. They stayed away from commenting on each other's physical appearances and she wasn't comfortable with it or with returning the courtesy if that's all it was.

"Thank you," she said as acknowledgement, but she couldn't bring herself to return the gesture. Michonne put her phone on the edge of the table. "I'm very sorry," she said, excusing the rudeness of the gesture, "but I have two very small children at home and I need to leave my phone in case my fiancé needs something."

Michonne was grateful to have the chance to mention Tyreese. At least it meant that if Blake had anything in mind other than a casual dinner…she'd disguised it as wanting to welcome him…he'd know that she was already spoken for, in the most archaic terms possible.

Philip nodded his head.

"Congratulations on your impending nuptials," Philip said.

"Thank you," Michonne said. She and Tyreese had only barely discussed what they were going to do as far as getting married. She didn't want much of anything since she'd been married before, but since it was his first wedding, and he said it was his last, he wanted something. They'd met in the middle and agreed that they'd have a ceremony in the park when the spring was in full bloom. Nothing too fancy, but something memorable for them both. "Are you married?" Michonne asked.

Philip Blake sipped at the wine that he had before realizing he hadn't filled her glass. He lifted the bottle out of the ice bucket and gestured toward her and she nodded at him. He filled her glass and returned the bottle.

"Divorced," he said.

Michonne nodded her head.

"I know that feeling," she said. "I'm sorry."

Philip shook his head.

"I divorced her," he said. "Of course, she was the one who was unfaithful, but I'm the one who pulled the plug on a marriage that was barely hanging on as it was."

Michonne frowned and nodded her head again.

"My first husband had a taste for the exotic as well," Michonne said. She snickered. "And the fresher fruit on the vine, I guess you could say."

Philip Blake chuckled and sat back in his chair.

Throughout dinner they maintained casual small talk and Michonne had to keep reminding herself that she was dining with the enemy. She could see how people found him charming and even alluring. He had a lot of good traits as a lawyer in that he seemed to know how to make himself personable and, Michonne thought, if she hadn't known that he was representing Ed and it weren't something she took personally, she would have found him quite charming herself.

Finally, dinner over and coffee and dessert served, she started up the chatter about cases and keeping busy. She briefly stated that she stayed busy, but like any small town lawyer most of her cases were less than exciting. Mostly they were quibbles that anyone with any ability to talk things out could have handled on their own.

Philip chuckled at the thought.

"Really," he said, "I think that most every case is a case born of miscommunication or the lack of communication. Really there's not much that we need the courts for besides the fact that people, imperfect as we are, don't possess the ability to reason when it comes to situations we are personally involved in."

"That may be true of most situations," Michonne said, "but what about cases when you're dealing with, for instance, murder…robbery…things in which discussion was never part of the deal."

Philip chuckled and tipped his head as he took a bit of his dessert.

"Mmm…perhaps. There are exceptions, of course. The occasional madman that murders people he's never met…the individual who robs for the sheer pleasure he derives from acquiring something that wasn't his to begin with. But in many cases, and in particular the ones that I've handled in my career, there were often breaches in communication," Philip said.

Michonne tried not to outwardly show what she thought in the moment. There weren't communication issues between Carol and Ed that justified the way the man acted. He was a brute, plain and simple. Lack of communication could lead to a lot of things, not all of them pleasant, but Michonne didn't think that any of it merited violence.

"Are you working on anything exciting at the moment?" Michonne asked, trying to make it seem that she was simply curious.

Philip smiled.

"Are you asking me to discuss my cases?" He asked.

Michonne shook her head and offered up the best angelic smile she could muster.

"Not in detail, of course. I just meant overall. For instance, at the moment I'm working on an absolutely riveting property dispute involving a tree that grows between the houses of two people who are sworn mortal enemies…that's as exciting as it gets in my world," Michonne said. "I was just wondering if, working for County, you might encounter things that are more exciting."

Philip Blake spooned the last of his dessert in his mouth and leaned back, sipping at his coffee. His eyes flashed something at Michonne and she got the chilling feeling that she'd been found out. She maintained her facial expression, though, and tasted another bite of her dessert.

"I've got a few that aren't so dull as a tree and a property line," Philip said. "One as interesting at the simple corruption of small town law enforcement and crooked officials."

Michonne raised her eyebrows.

"Wow," she said. "That must be pretty exciting."

"Sad, too, really," Philip said. "I'm a small town man myself. I come from North Carolina originally. It was always one of those facts that you knew the law was all about who you knew, but you never realized how truly corrupt everything was until you got into working with it hands on. So many people twist the law to suit their needs."

Michonne nodded a little.

"You could look it at that way, I suppose," Michonne said. "Or you could look at it as that's essentially all that any lawyer does. It's really all a game, isn't it? A mind game of sorts to manipulate the evidence and the perspectives of the jury members."

Philip Blake nodded his head.

"It is, you're right. It's a game of which mouse will get the cheese. I like the game, though. I've made it a point in my life to become as good at it as was possible. I take losing very personally," Philip said.

Michonne smiled again.

"Don't we all?" She asked.

Something else flashed in the man's eyes and Michonne was sure that he knew exactly who she was and exactly why she was there. She wasn't getting any information from the man and she was too smart to pry any further. If she tried to go too deep she might end up sticking her own foot into things and that was the last thing she wanted. If he were to report, to anyone, anything about this evening, she didn't want it coming back on her as anything more than a casual conversation.

"The issue with the tree is silly…" she said, changing the subject and trying to make it seem like she had just as much interest in her own ridiculousness as she had in what he was doing. "It's one of those cases where you don't mind much if you win or lose because you're simply involved in yet another squabble between two people who are notorious for fighting with one another."

Philip Blake chuckled a little.

"In which case you are simply a well-paid babysitter," Philip said.

Michonne chuckled.

"That's what it boils down to," she said.

They continued the conversation in the same grain until finally they'd finished everything. Michonne picked up the tab for the meal since she'd made the invitation, despite the protests of Philip Blake, and she generously tipped the waiter and the host so that they'd remember her fondly, as they often did, when she returned with clients or someone else that she cared to impress.

Philip Blake walked her to her car after they left the restaurant and she bid him farewell, getting into the car quickly and locking the doors immediately. Outside the restaurant, alone in the darkness with him, she'd felt a strange feeling of unease wash over her. She knew she suffered, like most women, from a bit of paranoia when it came to being in the dark, alone, with men she didn't know, but for all his charm there was something that was very clearly off about Mr. Philip Blake.

Michonne drove back home, full but frustrated. Philip Blake knew who she was, there was no doubt about that. He knew, from what he'd said, that Ed's case had been rigged. Though she hadn't been directly involved in the rigging, she was sure he didn't believe her to be entirely innocent of influence if nothing else.

She had no idea what platform, exactly, was the one that Philip Blake was going to use in the case of Ed Peletier, but she had a strong feeling that he was playing hardball and he wasn't going to let this be swept under the rug again. He was likely making a lot of money off of Ed…perhaps all the man had left…but there was something personal in it too. Even though Michonne couldn't put her finger on what it was, she could tell from Blake's speaking that something about it was personal…and when the case is personal, the lawyer's always at their best. Michonne knew that little piece of information well.


	94. Chapter 94

**AN: You're all so wonderful that I couldn't resist getting a little something more out there, so I popped in here between grading stacks to get this one out. **

**I'm really so excited that you're all still enjoying this story as much as I am. I really love working with the story and the characters, so it makes me happy to know that other people are enjoying this little world too, even if it's a Walker free zone. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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Carol dug around in one of the old plastic containers she kept under the bathroom sink and finally found what she was looking for. Her mother had always kept, in this old, plastic, yellow box, a variety of bobby pins and safety pins of various sizes. Carol had always thought, as a child, that the largest of the safety pins, the ones with the elaborate clasps on them, were just very large safety pins, and she hadn't learned until she was older that they were diaper pins. She never knew why her mother kept them, but she did…and then when she'd died they'd ended up being some of those odd items that Carol kept and never knew why.

They came in handy, though, from time to time and right now they were perfect for elongating the distance between the buttons on her pants and the holes that they were no longer friends with. She dug out one, having broken another earlier that day, and fixed her jeans. She slipped into the bedroom and pulled on the shirt she'd picked out for the day.

"You almost ready?" Andrea asked, leaning around the door frame of the bedroom. "Axel's going to be here in less than ten minutes."

"Almost," Carol said, smiling softly at Andrea. "Could you let Lincoln out? I don't want him leaving any presents in Axel's car."

"I'm on it," Andrea said.

It was the day of the Pumpkin festival and everyone was likely to be there. The festival, unlike the ones that took place in the center of town, took place out on the farmland just outside sweet junction. There were carnival games and hay rides. There were pumpkin carving competitions and more food than you could ever stand to eat. Carol hadn't been to one in a long time, but she'd loved them as a child and she was looking forward to going today. Axel and Andrea were going and taking Juniper, since dogs were welcome at the festival, and Carol was taking Lincoln so he could socialize.

It had been two weeks at least, almost three really, since Daryl had needed space and needed time. Carol found herself dwelling on it more and more, but she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. She'd thought he'd be back by now. She'd thought, at the very least, they'd see each other. When he'd said that she should get in contact with him if she needed anything, she'd thought it had been more something to say in the moment…something to be more security that he was coming back and he'd see her, but he was still around in case of an emergency…now it seemed like that was the only way she'd see him.

She didn't want to bother him and Andrea agreed that she should leave Daryl be. If he needed space and he needed time then she had to back off and give him that. So that's what she was trying to do.

So Carol kept herself busy. She worked and on her day off she spent it doing things around the house, reading for classes, reading and rereading her baby book…spending time with Michonne and Andrea and learning how to be a very good third wheel. She kept busy, but she wasn't going to interfere with Daryl and his space.

Though she was beginning to wonder exactly how much space he needed. Honestly, if it weren't from things she heard here and there, she'd wonder if he was even in Sweet Junction any longer or if he'd taken off and just not told her about it.

Carol got her jacket off the bed and pulled it on. She switched off the bedroom light and went to get Lincoln ready so they could all be waiting outside, under the carport, when Axel got there to pick them up and head out to grounds for the festival.

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"Oh my God! Want…want…want!" Carol declared, grabbing Andrea's arm. She'd been smelling something since they got there but there were so many confusing scents she had yet to pinpoint what it was. Now she knew, from someone who had just bustled by, that whatever it was she was smelling was coming from large paper cups that people were carrying around.

"What is it?" Andrea asked, crinkling up her nose.

Carol shook her head.

"I don't know…but I need it," Carol said.

Now that she had identified the smell she felt almost desperate to figure out what it was and where it was coming from. She looked around for someone that she knew with one of the cups but she didn't see anyone right away.

"Axel…" Andrea called. Axel was walking a couple of steps ahead of them in the crowd with both of the dogs that had since made friends and no longer felt the need to yap at each other uncontrollably.

"What is it?" He asked, turning a little to look at them walking arm in arm behind him.

"Do you know what's in those paper cups that everyone's drinking out of? Carol's head is going to explode if she doesn't get some of it soon," Andrea said.

Axel stopped and shook his head.

"Ain't got no idea what it is," he said. "Smells like cinnamon."

"Mmmm…" Carol said. "Smells like heaven."

Axel chuckled and Carol watched as he looked around and grabbed the shoulder of a woman who was walking in the opposite direction. She turned and Carol thought she looked familiar, but she couldn't place her. Everyone looked familiar, that was the thing, but Carol didn't have a name to go with the face.

"Excuse me," Axel said. "What's in that cup?"

The woman smiled.

"Pumpkin cider," she said.

Axel turned back to Carol and Andrea.

"You still want it?" He asked.

Carol shook her head adamantly.

"Where'd you get it?" Axel asked.

"Over there," the woman said, pointing toward some of the food stands. "Next to the candy apples. Josephine Greene is selling it."

Axel thanked the woman and she started on quickly. Carol was already headed in the direction of the tents, pulling Andrea with her who was now making plans of her own for a candy apple.

"I hope they have the ones with nuts on them because if I'm snatching my teeth out I want it to be for a good cause," Andrea declared, keeping up with Carol for the most part despite the crowd.

Carol nearly skipped as she got in line behind the five or six other people waiting for the cups of cider. She realized, all too late, that she'd left her purse with Axel who was functioning as the dog walker and pack mule of the day. He was coming…she could see his head bobbing up over the others every now and again…and she hoped he got there by the time that she made it through the line. Andrea was at the next table over, craning her neck back in his direction, and obviously realizing that she was short of cash as well.

Finally, Carol stepped up to the table and Jo Greene grinned at her.

"Carol Ann!" Jo announced. "I didn't know if I'd see you! Come here, let me get a hug."

Despite the short line behind her, Jo stepped out from behind the table and wrapped Carol in a hug. Carol stepped out of the line to allow Maggie, who was still in the back, to continue serving the people waiting.

Jo pushed Carol out, holding her at arm's length.

"You look beautiful, Carol!" Jo said. "I see you're putting on weight."

Carol felt herself blush and smiled back at Jo.

"It's not too often you hear that in the same breath," Carol said.

Jo frowned after a minute, pulling Carol in closer to her.

"What has happened with you and Daryl?" Jo asked. Carol felt Jo playing with her hair and she frowned. She was trying not to think about the whole thing. She hadn't wanted the festival to be about any of that and she was tired of anyone that knew them asking. At least she'd finally trained Andrea and Michonne to just let it be and not ask any more so that she didn't have to keep saying she hadn't seen him. Carol shook her head.

"It's nothing, Miss Jo," Carol said. "Just something we're working out."

Jo frowned.

"Working out?" She asked. "How in the world are you working it out? I haven't seen you since you came to dinner."

"It's a space thing," Carol said, trying to dismiss the conversation. Jo frowned again. "Really, it's fine…" Carol said. She pasted on a smile. "I want to get some of that pumpkin cider or whatever it is, though. It smells amazing."

Jo smiled at her.

"Appetite coming back?" Jo asked.

Carol smiled.

"With a vengeance," Carol said.

Jo held up her hand and walked around the table. She came back a moment later with one of the cups and something wrapped up in a napkin.

"Here's some of the cider, and a slice of pumpkin roll. I think it's the best this year that it's ever been," Jo said.

Carol thanked her and looked around the old woman, calling for Axel who was standing near another table and eating something that looked like an elephant ear.

"Axel…I need my purse," Carol said.

"No you don't!" Jo said. She turned in Axel and Andrea's direction. "No she doesn't!" Jo repeated.

"Miss Jo I know that you sell your stuff here..." Carol said.

"And I make it so I can give it away if I want," Jo said. "It's for the baby and the only way you're paying for it is if the baby refuses it right out loud."

Carol chuckled.

"Well thank you…" she said. "I guess I'll let you get back to work."

"Take care, Carol," Jo said. "And don't be a stranger."

Carol nodded at her and started toward Andrea and Axel.

"Carol Ann…" Jo called. Carol turned around to look at her. "Daryl's working the hayrides this evening."

Carol nodded and turned again, walking over to join her friends and offer them some of the pumpkin roll.

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Merle wasn't paying too damn much attention to the crowd. He was killing time more than anything. The whole damn town was shut down for this stupid ass festival. These little ass backward towns always took every damn thing like this so seriously.

Still, he'd at least found a booth that was selling some kind of pumpkin honey shit that tasted somewhat akin to cough medicine until he'd emptied part of the flask he was wearing into it. Now he was enjoying the damn festival a hell of a lot more.

He wandered around, looking at all the people gorging themselves on fall flavored shit. He wasn't paying too close attention to anything until his eyes happened to fall on a person he hadn't seen in a while. A person he'd been trying to avoid like the bubonic plague. But that was the damnedest thing about Sweet Junction…you couldn't avoid people for shit if you were going to ever leave your fucking house.

Andrea was walking sitting on one of the hay bales they had stacked up, eating some kind of shit, with a little dog in her lap that was trying desperately to get some of it. She was laughing at something.

Merle took another long drink of his pumpkin honey flavored swill and watched her for a minute. He didn't know what the hell possessed him, but he started making his way in her direction, not sure exactly what he was going to say when he got there. As he cleared his way of the ocean of people, though, he realized she wasn't alone. She was talking to Carol…the little bitch who had done just what he'd thought she do. Sunk her claws into Daryl just to drag him as far as she pleased and drop him.

Merle hadn't seen too much of his brother lately. Daryl wanted to jack his damn jaws about Merle's life but he was busy hiding out and playing Mama's boy at the farm he worked at, licking his wounds over the woman who had jacked him around.

Merle stopped then. He wasn't going over there and talking to Andrea. The only damn reason it even seemed like a good idea was because it was getting fucking cold outside. The cold made you think you needed a woman to warm your bed…and it made you think crazy shit. That along with the whiskey spiked punch in his hand had made him think for a moment he might talk to Andrea…but he was better off without her nagging ass around.

He watched her for a minute, pissed off just to see her there, sitting up on that damn hay bale like she ruled the fucking world. She was hot…but that's all the bitch had going for her. One damn day her ass would dry up and then she'd be nothing but an old road whore…rode hard and put up wet.

Still, Merle couldn't quite will his feet to move from the spot and he stayed there a moment, drinking the drink in his hand and watching her talk to Carol. Then out of nowhere came some man…some asshole that Merle thought he'd seen somewhere but he couldn't put his finger on why the man was familiar. He walked up and looped an arm around Andrea, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her.

Looked like she'd found her some damn new person to nag at. Good luck to his sorry ass…Merle thought. He watched as Andrea slid off the hay bale, depositing the dog she was holding on the ground, and she wrapped her arm around him, leaning into his chest.

Merle scoffed and turned in the other direction. He drained the rest of the swill that he was drinking and started in the direction of the trucks where he'd seen his brother earlier. He wasn't going to stay around and deal with his brother's annoying ass and he wasn't going to stay and play happy little town with the fuckers around here. He had a full bottle of whiskey back at his place and Loretta said the bar would be open tonight when this dumb ass festival finally closed down and everyone took their pumpkin sodden asses back home.

He certainly wasn't staying around to run into Andrea, and he wasn't going to go over to talk to her and her flavor of the month.

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Daryl was damn near exhausted. He'd spent the early part of the day hauling little kids around on the back of a truck trailer pulled by a lawnmower. The kiddie hay rides went so damn slow that if the whole damn lot of the kids fell off at once not a damn one would even so much as get hurt. No one had fallen off, though.

The ones he'd been doing for the last hour, though, they ran a little different. Hershel pulled the trailer with a truck and Daryl's job was to sit in the back, riding around, and make sure that no one did anything stupid. Supposedly the festival was a "dry festival" and no one was drinking, but Daryl had seen more than enough evidence that even if they weren't selling alcohol, plenty of people had brought that shit in.

So he was essentially wrangling drunks on these rides while the other adults…the ones that still had the capacity to act like grown ups…rode along looking at the fields in the dying light of day.

The good news, though, was that it was last call and Daryl was going to get to leave after this. They were going to have a big ass dinner and then he was going to sleep like he probably hadn't slept in a while. They'd been out here since before the sun even came up setting up for this stupid thing and tomorrow they'd tear the whole thing down again.

So Hershel pulled the truck to a stop at the start up point and Daryl watched as everyone filed off the back. He dropped down to the ground long enough to help those down that needed it and help the new group up if they needed a boost.

"Last round," Hershel said. "Getting too dark to keep going."

Daryl nodded at him and watched as the old man walked back around the truck. The small crowd that had been waiting was already crawling on the back and Daryl glanced to the side noticing that Michonne and Tyreese were sitting down in the grass. It wouldn't have caught his attention so much except it was obvious that one of the two dogs with them was Lincoln.

Either they'd borrowed the damn flea bag for the day or Carol was out here somewhere.

Almost like an answer to his question, Daryl realized that without even speaking to him Andrea had just walked right past him. He looked at her for a minute as she made her way to the truck. The man he'd met at his house…the day they'd had the fight…Axel was his name…helped Andrea up on the trailer.

"Hi Daryl," a voice said.

Daryl felt like his heart stopped for a second. He swallowed and glanced to his side. Carol was standing there, holding her jacket at the throat. She smiled at him.

"Hey," he said, averting his eyes for the moment and pretending to be paying attention to the rest of the crowd as they piled onto the ride.

"How are you?" Carol asked.

"Fine," Daryl said. "Yaself?"

"Fine," Carol said.

Daryl didn't know why his heart was pounding butt it was. It felt like it would damn near beat out of his chest soon. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't really been avoiding her, but he'd stayed away from her all the same. He hadn't known what to do or say about the situation. He hadn't known if they were supposed to talk about things or how to even go about it, and so he'd figured out it was much easier to just avoid her.

Now, though, with her standing a few feet to the side of him, he wasn't sure what the hell to do and he could barely breathe. He wished he could switch places with Hershel and run straight to the truck and just pretend he didn't even see her.

"Better get on," he said. "If ya ridin'."

Carol looked at him a moment, then she nodded and Daryl watched her walk over. He should have offered at least to help her up on the side, but just as he realized it she reached the side of the truck and Axel hopped back off, lifting her up enough that she could crawl on and settle down against some of the hay bales. Axel got back on and Daryl saw him sit between Andrea and Carol, his arms going around both of them.

Daryl growled a little to himself and waited until the last of the people was on. He hopped up on the back of the trailer and walked toward the truck, almost stepping directly into Carol's lap. He wrapped on the window of the truck to let Hershel know they were loaded and walked back, sitting down on one of the hay bales in the middle so that he had a good view of everyone in case one of the fuckers decided to do something dumb.

The whole ride Daryl felt distracted. He was supposed to be watching everyone, but mostly he kept glancing in Carol's direction. Every now and again he caught her looking at him, but as the ride wore on she simply pulled her jacket tighter around her and glanced off at the shadows of the fields around them. There wasn't a damn bit of scenery to see in the failing light, and most of the people on this ride were chatting or napping, but Carol was pretending to be interested in whatever she couldn't see out there.

When it finally drew to a close, Daryl had decided that he should at least say some shit to her. He should ask her how she was…ask her how the baby was...something. He'd been fine so long as he hadn't seen her, but now that she'd popped back up in his life like some kind of ghost he didn't know what to do. He'd dealt with everything, until now, by just falling into the lull of hiding away…and that wasn't working knowing that she was only a few feet from him.

As the crowd filed off the back, though, Daryl lost her somewhere among them. He finally got off the trailer and looked around, but he couldn't find her anywhere. He didn't see hide nor hair of her, of Andrea and Axel, of Michonne and her crew…nothing. It was like all of them had disappeared in the sea of people who were heading away from him…flowing toward the field that had been converted into a parking lot.

Daryl looked for a few moments and then finally heard Hershel calling him, unaware that Daryl was trying to get control of himself in the situation, and he turned around to help the man get everything ready to leave for the night.

Daryl realized, as he silently helped Hershel, that he was going to have to actually figure this out if there was anything to figure out. He had hidden from the whole thing too long. He'd just put it out of his mind and tried not to think about it…tried to make himself just believe that Carol was there…up on some shelf…out of sight and out of mind. The truth was, though, that she wasn't up on a shelf somewhere. She was still just as real as she'd been and the problem wasn't going anywhere.

It was time to deal with this shit, one way or the other. He was going to have to figure out what he wanted to do. He had to figure out what he was going to say to Carol, but Daryl needed to see her and he needed to talk to her. His vacation was over.


	95. Chapter 95

**AN: And a little more for you! This is probably the last update for the night…at least on this one.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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"One of these is upside down, that's all there is to it," Andrea said.

"Well we can read the directions," Carol said, "so that's not upside down…and that's got to be the bottom of this side."

Andrea scratched at her forehead and turned one of the pieces in her hand in the other direction.

"That's the culprit…I think…" Andrea said.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should call someone…" Carol said.

"No!" Andrea said, turning to look at Carol now. "We're not calling anyone. We are two able bodied, intelligent women and we put a damn crib together without someone's help. That's right…see, that part fits."

"Andrea if this thing breaks or something…I'm not putting my baby in something that may or may not fall apart," Carol said.

She'd finally given in. She'd crossed the line into the second trimester and given in and gone with Andrea and Michonne to buy a crib. The first piece of proof in the house that she expected, one day, to come through the door carrying a tiny little human being. And now she was trying to put the thing together with Andrea. They'd almost gotten it done…almost…but the last part wasn't going as smoothly as the first part had.

"Carol…the thing's got like a ridiculous weight limit," Andrea said. "I'll crawl my ass into it and if it doesn't break then it's not going to. If you pop out a kid that outweighs me then we've got bigger problem than the faulty construction of a crib, I can tell you that."

Carol laughed.

"Don't laugh…and don't think I don't know you were wearing my jeans the other night at the Watering Hole," Andrea said, working the pieces together in the manner that she saw fit.

"I didn't think you'd mind and they were clean. I forgot to wash mine," Carol said, passing pieces to her partner in crime.

"No, I don't mind," Andrea responded. "I always find it flattering when people want to wear my clothes as maternity wear."

"Don't be melodramatic," Carol said. "They didn't fit any better than mine do."

When they'd finally gotten the crib together, both of them stood back to admire it, silently congratulating themselves on accomplishing the job.

"I need a beer," Andrea said, turning and starting out of the nursery. "We should put Lincoln in the crib…see if it holds."

"We're going to put non-living things in there," Carol said. If it breaks it's not killing anyone or anything."

Andrea laughed and got a beer out of the refrigerator.

"Spaghetti alright with you for dinner?" Carol asked. "I really don't feel like making anything elaborate."

"You know I don't care," Andrea said.

Carol started getting things ready to put together their dinner while Andrea leaned against the bar, sipping at her beer.

"Still haven't heard anything from Daryl?" Andrea asked.

"You know I haven't," Carol said.

"I just figured he'd…I don't know…do something at the Pumpkin Festival," Andrea said. She sighed and then started blowing across the top of her bottle, making a noise a little like the sound of ship at a distance.

"You saw…" Carol said. "He didn't even want to speak to me."

It was going on two days since the Pumpkin Festival. Apparently Michonne and Andrea both were under the impression that the interaction, no matter how limited, that they'd had at the hay ride would spur Daryl into some kind of action…that he'd come back ready to just pick up where they left off the day of the fight.

In reality, they hadn't spoken yet and Carol was the only one who had seen how desperately Daryl seemed to even be trying to avoid eye contact with her at the Festival. She knew they were going to tease her that she had a flair for drama, but since that moment she'd been trying to slowly come to terms with the fact that Daryl wasn't coming back…he didn't care…and his space had taught him one thing. It had taught him he was glad to be rid of her.

The very thing he'd gone to figure out if she would do to him…he'd gone, as she understood it, to come to terms with his fears that she would forget about him or drop him out of her life…that's exactly what he'd done. Maybe he hadn't figured out if that's what she'd do to him, but she'd seen clearly that's what he'd do to her.

He hadn't talked to her in three weeks, and now everyone thought he would see her at the Pumpkin Festival and he'd show up, ready to come back.

"You know how Daryl is…you know how Merle is…" Andrea said. "They don't process things always in the best way."

"Don't excuse them," Carol said. "Merle Dixon has had more than enough time to admit that he was wrong to you…and Daryl's taken nearly a month to…to what? To forgive me?"

Carol turned around then and looked at Andrea who was contemplating her beer bottle much harder than she had to.

Carol shook her head.

"I told him that I didn't think it was the best idea for us to get married…and I hurt him. I realize that," Carol said. "And he wanted space…so I gave him space and time…and it's been three weeks…and he hasn't so much as set his foot in that door or picked up the phone. He's out, Andrea…he's done."

"I don't think he's done…this is Daryl we're talking about," Andrea said.

Carol chuckled a little. She'd soaked her pillow through the night of the festival, but she was done crying now.

"You're right," Carol said. "It's Daryl we're talking about," she said, leaving it at that. Andrea didn't say anything else, obviously gathering from Carol's tone of voice that she didn't care to continue the conversation.

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When Daryl told Hershel he needed the afternoon off to go and talk to Carol, Hershel hadn't even asked him any questions before adamantly agreeing to give him the time off…as much as he needed. Daryl drove into town and drove to the law office, knowing that Carol would be working there. As much as he hated the idea of dealing with Michonne if she wasn't his biggest fan right now…and over the past few days he'd come up with a few reasons why she might not be…he knew that the best way to find Carol was to find her at work.

Daryl parked his truck in the parking lot next to Carol's and got out. He lit a cigarette and hung around the side of the truck for a moment trying to get his breathing under control.

He didn't know why he was absolutely terrified of seeing Carol, but he was. He felt like he'd be calmer at the moment if he had to face a firing squad.

He'd done in the past few days the amount of thinking that he'd told her he was going to do in the beginning. He felt like since he'd seen her at the festival he hadn't been able to get her off his mind. Everything he'd shoved back had come at him.

He wasn't mad anymore about the marriage thing. In fact, he was having a hard time now even remembering why he'd been mad in the first place and it was making him feel like an ass. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like an ass…and the more he felt like an ass, the more he got nervous about finally walking through those doors.

He had been trying to work it out, but he didn't have a damn clue what he was going to say. He'd never been in this situation before and he wasn't really even sure how someone handled something like this. He understood breaking up with someone, but they'd never really broken up…he'd just sort of avoided her altogether.

Finally Daryl threw down his cigarette and snubbed it out with his shoe. He took a deep breath and made his way into the door of the law office. Carol was sitting behind a desk area, hunched over some books she was writing in.

"Be with you in just one minute," she called, not looking up.

Daryl walked over and leaned against the little partition area.

"Take ya time," he said softly.

Carol slowly looked up at him, the pen in her hand suspended in the movement of whatever she'd been writing.

"Daryl…" she said.

Daryl nodded his head.

"Wanted ta talk ta ya…got a minute? Maybe we can go ta lunch?" Daryl asked.

"I…uh…" Carol looked surprised and Daryl realized he'd caught her off guard. He hadn't really known what to expect from her or what her reaction might be. He'd figured she'd probably start crying, but right now she just looked confused or surprised. "Let me talk to Michonne," Carol said.

Daryl nodded at her and watched as she got up from where she was, leaving everything just as it was. She disappeared quickly down a hallway that Daryl couldn't entirely see and he stood there, still leaning on the partition and chewing at the cuticle on his thumb.

A few minutes later Carol reappeared. She stepped back behind the partition and came up a moment later with a jacket that she threw on. Then she tossed her purse over her shoulder.

"We can go to lunch," she said, stepping around the partition and zipping up her jacket. "I've got an hour."

"You've got as long as you need," Michonne said, appearing in the hallway, just where Daryl could see her. She shot him a look and he could immediately tell it wasn't the nicest look he'd ever hoped to receive from Michonne. "We're not busy," Michonne added.

"Yeah…" Carol said, not really looking at either of them. She walked past Daryl and out the door and Daryl turned quickly, following her.

"We'll take my truck," Daryl said. He'd had all intentions of opening the door for her, but before he could even make it to the truck, less likely make it around and pull the door open, Carol had slid into the cab and slammed the door. When Daryl crawled in she was buckling her seatbelt.

"Lula's good with ya?" Daryl asked, glancing over at her. She looked would up tighter than the strings on a guitar at the moment.

"Fine…it's just fine," Carol said.

Daryl cranked the truck and drove them to the diner. When he got there he didn't get to open the truck door for Carol but he did make it in time to open the diner door and she thanked him as she slipped past him and inside. She went immediately to a booth and sat down.

Daryl felt almost out of place sitting across from her at the booth. She seemed to be looking at everything but him at the moment.

"How ya been?" He asked.

Carol looked at him then and he almost preferred her not looking at him. The look on her face was one caught between confusion and amusement and he had a pretty good feeling that he deserved it. A few days of realizing how bad you might have fucked up would do that to you.

"Just fine, Daryl," Carol said. "And yourself?"

Daryl nodded his head. Her tone was a little biting. He should have expected that.

"How…" he didn't know what to ask. "How are things? How's the baby?"

Carol nodded her head. She'd picked up a sugar packet now and was working it between her fingers, even though they didn't have anything to add sugar to at the moment.

"Baby's fine," Carol said. "Um…I'm fourteen weeks…I don't throw up like I did, but it still takes me about an hour or so to get going in the morning. Andrea and I put the crib together. Everything's just fine."

Daryl nodded at her and was almost thankful when Jacqui came to take their drink orders. He ordered his food with his drink and Carol seconded the order of a burger and fries.

Daryl snickered.

"Wanna make a bet on if ya can eat the whole damn thing?" He asked.

Carol looked at him.

"Look…OK, ya pissed at me?" Daryl asked. "Go ahead…say what the hell ya wanna say."

"No," Carol said. "I don't want to say anything, Daryl. I'm not going to say anything to you that's going to hurt your feelings…did you come here to say something or were you just checking in?"

Daryl nodded. She was pissed…that much was evident.

"I want ta come back," Daryl said. "I'm sorry I took so damn long ta get my shit straight…OK? I was an asshole…and I got side tracked a little…but I want ta come back. I ain't even pissed an' we ain't even gotta get married. I'll let'cha be the one that decides when we do."

Carol was still just staring at him and he wished she'd do something besides stare.

"Why, Daryl? Why do you want to come back?" Carol asked.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"Why do you want to come back?" Carol repeated. "What's made you want to come back? Why today?"

"Look, I was always comin' back," Daryl said. "Ya know I weren't leavin' for good. I just…I had ta clear my head. Ya know I love ya an' I wanta come back…that's just it."

Carol chuckled.

"It took you almost a month to come up with that?" Carol asked.

Daryl bit his lip.

"Ya said I could come back when I left…" Daryl said. "Ya didn't say I was gon' have ta fill out some kinda questionnaire."

"I'm not saying you can't come back," Carol said. "But I want to know what…in all this time…has changed or what have you figured out that you didn't know when you walked out that door. What has this space…this time…this clearing your head done…what have you figured out?"

"I know I shouldn'ta stayed gone so long, OK? It's just that I got…I don't know…I got distracted or some shit. I ain't never been on my own like that and I wasn't doin' what the shit I went out there to do," Daryl said.

Carol nodded her head.

"You got distracted?" She asked. "Side tracked?"

"I'm an asshole," Daryl said.

He knew exactly what it felt like to be in one of those cartoons where the person just automatically morphs into being a giant jackass. He couldn't have felt more like one in the heat of her facial expression right now if he'd begun braying at her.

"I don't want to call you an asshole, Daryl, and that's not what I want from you," Carol said. "But I want to know that whatever you got out of this time is what you needed out of it…Because me? Well I learned that I'm having a baby…and I know that because I get to see all these little changes…these little things that are happening to me, Daryl…and they don't go away. I learned that I can put a crib together with Andrea's help and more profanity than the two of us typically go through in a week…and I learned that it might hurt me when you ignore me flat out…because I do still love you…but hey…I'll wake up the next morning. So I want to know that you got what you needed out of your space and your time."

Daryl nodded his head.

"I'm sorry that I ignored ya…and I'm sorry that I hurt'cha," Daryl said. "I don't know how ta fix this shit, though."

Carol was quiet when Jacqui brought the plates. She left the food and walked away quickly and Daryl wondered if the air around the booth was as thick to everyone else as it felt to him.

"There's nothing to fix," Carol said. "Nothing's broken that needs to be fixed."

Daryl didn't respond because he had no idea how to respond. He would have liked to have dug some kind of a hole to crawl in right about now because he felt about as low as he could get and that had never been his intention in any of this. He hadn't meant to hurt Carol and he hadn't really meant to ignore her. It had just been one of those things that it had slowly seemed like the easiest thing to do. Now he'd somehow worked himself into a situation where he was the one that had fucked up entirely.

"What do ya want me ta say?" He asked finally. "I love ya an' I'm sorry. I'm a dick an' I done some stupid shit 'cause I was pissed."

"Have you decided that you believe I'm not going to just up and drop you over some mystery man?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded.

He didn't think she was actively seeking out anyone else. She hadn't found anyone in the time that he'd been gone, and that was a pretty decent chunk of time. If anything he was starting to realize that she'd just move on without him if she had to…like she apparently already had done to some degree…but he couldn't even really blame that on her. He'd been the one that had put the distance between them and he'd been the one that had let it go on for so long…he'd said he was coming back when he'd felt like he'd had enough time…he just never really meant for it to be so long.

"I ain't gon' accuse ya no more a' wantin' ta find somebody else," Daryl offered. "You gon' quit comparin' me ta Ed all the damn time?"

Carol shook her head.

"I never compared you to Ed, Daryl," Carol said. "At least not in a bad way. You did that. I told you things I thought about…I told you experiences I had with Ed…but I never once compared you to Ed."

"Fine," Daryl said. "Do ya believe I ain't gon' hit'cha when we get married?"

"If we get married…then I think you're not going to hit me," Carol said. "But what I want to know now is if you're going to run out…and that doesn't have a thing to do with Ed, Daryl. That's my question to you."

Daryl sighed.

"I ain't runnin' no more," Daryl said.

"I want you to really think about that one, Daryl," Carol said. "Because I've had to think about it and I'd rather my baby grow up…"

Carol paused and Daryl watched as she rearranged the fries on her plate. She wasn't eating, but neither was he. At the moment the food didn't seem all that appetizing.

"I'd rather my baby grow up without a father…and grow up with aunts and uncles and whoever else that are going to be there…than grow up with a father who's in and out of its life. It's easier for me to explain why Daddy's not there for good than it'll ever be to explain why Daddy can't make up his mind," Carol said.

"That ain't fair…" Daryl responded. "Ya gon' hold this shit against me an' ya said ya weren't gonna do that. Ya said when I left that ya understood what the hell I was doin' an' that I could come back when I wanted an' now ya tryin' ta make it out…ya tryin' ta make it out like I'ma be some kinda asshole dad from the start."

Carol shook her head.

"When you left I thought it was going to be for a few days…maybe a week, Daryl. I understood that you were mad at me and you were hurt. But haven't I done enough time for that?" Carol asked. "I have never thought you'd be an asshole dad…but I have had to think about the fact that you might be an absent dad."

"I ain't gonna do that," Daryl said. "I don't know how ta make ya know that I ain't gonna do that."

"Be there," Carol said. "That's all you have to do."

Daryl sighed.

"So I can come back?" He asked.

Carol smiled at him.

"You come back, Daryl. You can always come back…but I don't think it's time for you to come back right now," Carol said.

Daryl looked at her and made a face.

"I think you need more time…or more space…or whatever it is that you need," Carol said. "Because when you do come back…if you come back…I want you to be sure that you're coming back for good. I want you to know why you're coming back and I want you to know that you really do want to come back. I don't think you know that right now. I think you know that you were gone for a long time, and I think you're worried that I'm not going to let you come back…and so you're panicking a little. I don't want your panic, Daryl."

"So how am I s'posed ta be there if ya ain't lettin' me come back?" Daryl asked.

"You can be there," Carol said, "just not live there…not until you're sure."

Daryl suddenly didn't feel hungry at all and from the looks of Carol she didn't feel hungry either. Daryl nodded, realizing that he didn't know what else to say. He picked at his food for a second.

"I'ma make it right," he said. "I'm comin' back."

"You can come back, Daryl," Carol repeated. "I just want you to be sure when you do."

They sat there in silence for a little longer and Daryl realized that he had a lot he had to go back to the little apartment and think about, but suddenly he wasn't feeling as pleased about being in the little area as he once had.

Finally, to end the somewhat awkward situation, Daryl suggested they get the food to go and he drove Carol back to Michonne's office in silence. When they got out the truck in the parking lot he asked if he could kiss her and was surprised when she agreed. She leaned up and kissed him gently.

"Don't look at me like that," Carol said, pulling away. "You're not being punished, Daryl. I just want you to make sure that you've really thought about things. I promise…I still love you."

Daryl leaned down and kissed her again. He felt like his heart was breaking for the moment. He wanted to say that in the moment he was sure that he wanted to come back…he didn't doubt it at all…but he knew she wasn't going to accept that.

"I love ya too," Daryl said. He stood there for a minute, lighting a cigarette and watching as she walked back toward the office. "Hey!" He called.

Carol turned around before she reached the door and looked at him.

"Ya reckon we could have supper together…like tomorrow maybe?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled at him.

"I'd love to," she said. "I'll cook…you can come to the house around seven?"

"Sounds good," he said.

Carol smiled again and turned back, stepping into the building. Daryl sighed and finished his cigarette before getting in the truck and heading back to the Greene farm.


	96. Chapter 96

**AN: Here we go, another chapter for you guys because you're so wonderful! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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Daryl felt strange as he got out the truck. He considered the house to be his house, but suddenly he didn't feel like it was his house anymore. It had been a while since he'd been there and he knew that Carol was at least a little annoyed with him, if not angry.

He got out the truck, though, and pulled the two gallon jugs out of the back, carrying them up to the door. He knocked on the glass side door with his elbow and heard Lincoln baying from inside. A moment later Carol came and swung open the door, leaning out and holding the glass door open for him while pushing Lincoln back with her foot.

Daryl passed as quickly inside as he could, trying to not to step on the dog that was damn near ready to piss all over himself right there in the middle of the kitchen floor trying to get Daryl's attention or a belly rub. Daryl put the two gallon jugs down on the bar.

"I…uh…don't know if ya want all that but Miss Jo sent'cha a couple a' gallons a' that pumpkin cider she was sellin' at the festival," Daryl said.

Carol smiled, closing the door and coming into the kitchen with him to look at the jugs.

"I love it!" She said.

"She's got enough ta flood the whole state if she wanted to," Daryl said. "Smells good in here…"

Daryl wasn't sure what to say or do…or even really how he was supposed to act. Carol didn't look like she was mad…but if she wasn't mad then he wasn't really sure what was going on or why they had to do this thing this way.

"Thanks," Carol said. "Dinner's ready. I made beef stew…but we're having cherry pie and ice cream for dessert and the pie is baking so I'll take it out to cool some while we're eating. It shouldn't be that much longer."

"It's fine," Daryl said, kneeling down to pay attention to the dog and to try to figure out what his next move was supposed to be.

From his position kneeling on the floor he watched Carol as she walking around checking on various things in the kitchen. She was barefoot and wearing black leggings with a sort of baggy green dress that hung down to around her knees. Daryl wasn't used to seeing her wear too much besides jeans and shirts or the occasional dress when they were the uniforms at Lula's.

"What'cha wearin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol turned and looked over her shoulder, smiling at him.

"You like it?" She asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Kinda look like a leprechaun in all that green," Daryl said. "But it ain't bad."

Carol gave him the look she typically did when she was pretending to be annoyed but actually wasn't. She seemed, actually to be in a really good mood.

"The leggings are comfortable," Carol said. "My jeans just aren't very comfortable so I like the leggings and Michonne and I found these great dresses. They're sort of one size fits all so they grow right along with me. I got like six different ones…though now I'm rethinking the green."

Daryl chuckled again.

"It ain't bad…it's just a lotta green," Daryl said.

Carol opened the oven and looked in.

"Almost done here," she said. "Why don't you go look at the crib that Andrea and I put together and by the time you get back we'll be ready to eat."

"Where is it?" Daryl asked, standing up.

Carol turned around her hands on her hips.

"In the nursery," she said. "You know…that room that isn't Andrea's room."

Daryl nodded and started down the hall to the extra bedrooms of the house. They didn't really go in them much. Andrea had taken one of them and called it a guest bedroom…or at least she used to call it that…but now it appeared that she was giving up all false pretense of moving out "in a couple of days".

Daryl stepped into the other room. It was empty except for some cardboard boxes shoved in a corner and a crib up against the wall.

Daryl felt strange seeing a crib there. They'd talked about buying one and he knew they were going to get one, but talking about it and seeing the furniture there, in your house, those were two different things.

Daryl left the room fairly quickly and came back in to see Carol carrying bowls of stew to the table.

"Can you fix the tea?" Carol asked. "Unless you'd rather have cider…but I think I'll save mine for dessert."

Daryl faked a gagging sound.

"I can't even stand ta smell that shit no more," Daryl said. "I swear I feel like damn pumpkins an' shit is comin' outta my ears."

He crossed to the kitchen quickly and fixed two glasses of tea while Carol was setting the rest of the table.

"Sorry it's not anything more elaborate," Carol said. "I needed something I could just leave in the crockpot while I was at work today."

"Smells just great to me," Daryl said, taking his seat at the table. Once Carol was settled in he took a moment to take a few bites of his food while trying to think what they might talk about.

"Did you like the crib?" Carol asked.

Daryl wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say about it. It was a wooden crib. It was essentially a cage for a baby…a baby they were supposed to have…in an empty room in a house that he wasn't even living in.

"Great," he said.

Carol frowned at him, but didn't say anything for a minute and when she did speak again she'd changed the subject, although only slightly.

"I was worried about the truck but Andrea and I are going to switch vehicles when it gets harder for me to get in the truck. We tested the backseat of her car with one of Michonne's car seats and it works…so now I just need the car seat," Carol said.

Daryl thought about it for a moment.

"You gon' start drivin' that piece a' shit that Andrea's got?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

"I've got to have somewhere to put the car seat, Daryl. I can't exactly put the baby in a milk crate and bungee cord the thing to the back of the truck," Carol said.

Daryl snickered at the image.

"That car ain't much better," Daryl said. "I'm damn surprised the thing still runs."

"What do you suggest?" Carol asked. "I can buy a car, but I'm not sure what I'm even looking for."

Now it was Daryl's turn to frown at her.

"So I'll take ya ta find a damn car," Daryl said. "Ya ain't gotta do every damn thing on ya own."

"I'd love for you to take me if you want to, Daryl," Carol said.

Daryl sighed.

"So when ya gon' let me move back in?" Daryl asked. "What exactly is it that ya wantin' me ta do ta let'cha know that I made up my mind I wanna come back?"

Carol ate for a minute before bothering to respond.

"I don't know that I want you to _do_ anything, Daryl," Carol said. "I just want you to be sure that you're coming back for good…and that means that when things get hard you're back…and when things are easy, you're back."

"If ya remember correctly I weren't the one that weren't so sure 'bout us gettin' married in the first place," Daryl said. "I was tryin' ta make a commitment to ya an' it was you, Carol, that said ya ain't thought it was a good idea."

Carol nodded her head.

"That's true, Daryl…that was me," Carol said. "I've had a lot of time to be sorry for that…and I've had a lot of time to think about it. The thing is that I don't think you're going to hit me…but I can't promise you that I'm just going to forget about Ed and that's that. I can't promise you that at all. I don't think you are Ed and I don't think you're like Ed…but that's a lot for me to just get over too…and not a whole lot of time."

"I ain't askiin' ya ta pretend he weren't never in ya life an' I ain't askin' ya ta just forget every damn thing," Daryl said. "I get sicka hearin' Ed as some damn excuse for things, though. If there's somethin' ya don't wanna do, like marry me, then at least have the guts ta say ya just don't wanna do it."

Carol nodded her head at him, picking around in her stew with her spoon like she was fishing for specific ingredients.

"That's fair," Carol said. "I can try to do better about that…although what I was trying to explain to you with the marriage thing didn't really have to do with you, Daryl. It had to do with the concept of marriage. Not the being with you…not the being committed…not the being together. It had to do with the idea of actually being married…and that has to do with Ed."

Daryl huffed a little and went back to his stew.

"If we're going to be making demands, though," Carol said, making Daryl look up, "then I don't want to hear what Dixon men do and don't do. It doesn't matter a hill of beans to me what your last name is, Daryl…your genetics don't make your decisions, you do…and I know that's more Merle's thing than yours, but you buy into it too…when it suits you."

Daryl looked at her, not entirely sure how to respond for the moment and could clearly see that she wasn't done talking. She wasn't even looking at him. She was looking off, to the side, the gears in her head visibly turning.

"And I'm not going to raise my baby," Carol said, continuing, "whether it's a boy or a girl, to do anything or not do it because it's a _Dixon_. You do what's right because it's right and you don't do what's wrong because it's wrong, but that's not going to have a thing to do with its last name."

"It's how we was raised, that's all it means," Daryl said, trying to hide his annoyance.

Carol nodded her head.

"Fine…" She said. "I just don't want my baby to grow up thinking it's OK to just excuse things because of its last name."

Daryl scoffed.

"I ain't even gonna argue that one," He said. "I ain't wantin' my damn kid growin' up like I did…but I can't help but notice ya got an awful lotta 'my babies' thrown up in there. I thought this was my kid too."

"That depends on you," Carol said. "It's our child…we made it together…but it's going to be up to you what role you want to take in the baby's life. What remains constant, though, is that it's my baby. That's not going to change."

Daryl growled now.

"It's my kid too," he said. "Damn it! I ain't run out on the kid for good or nothin'. I told ya I fucked up. I went out ta Hershel Greene's farm 'cause I thought I could figure my shit out…an' I think I have. I was gone too fuckin' long, alright? I know that…but hell, I ain't used ta all this damn shit no way. An' then I put my ass out there an' think we gon' get married, the way we s'posed ta do, an' ya throw Ed in my face. I needed a damn break from it ta get it together."

Carol was looking at him now, but she didn't make a move to say anything.

"I got out there an' I realized that I ain't never been on my own durin' my whole damn life. I've always had someone there…someone I had ta be lookin' out for or thinkin' 'bout. Hell, I been with Merle since we was with our parents. Then I moved in here with you an' all of a damn sudden I got a kid on the way an' I'm livin' in fuckin' suburbia…an' then ya tell me ya ain't even sure if ya think ya oughta marry me 'cause ya was married to a fucker that beat'cha. I just had ta get the fuck out for a little while…an' now I'm back an' I'm waitin' ta see what kinda damn hoops ya gonna set up for me to jump through just ta tell ya I'm sorry that I took longer than ya thought I shoulda taken."

Carol sat there a moment, still looking at him, and then she went back to excavating for things in her bowl. Daryl wasn't terribly hungry, but he turned his attention back to his own stew to match her.

"I know it's important for you to have time to figure yourself out," Carol said. "And I think…"

She broke off for a moment and Daryl watched her, waiting for her to get together whatever it was she was thinking about.

"I'm not setting up hoops for you," Carol said. "If you need to find yourself or have some kind of early mid-life crisis…or recreate yourself…or I don't even know…then I want you to do it now and make sure that you've got it done. Right now, Daryl, this baby doesn't know what's happening between us, out here, but one day it will. So I want you to have whatever time you need alone or whatever before it gets here. Do you understand that?"

"I get that," Daryl said. "An' I know that I want ta be with ya. I did need the fuckin' time alone, but I'm back now. I don't want ta spend the rest a' my life tryin' ta prove to ya that I ain't Ed, though."

"Got that," Carol said. "You're not Ed."

"So now what else I gotta do?" Daryl asked. "Can I come back or we ain't done yet?"

Carol chuckled.

"I guess we're not done yet," Carol said. "You were gone for three, almost four, weeks, Daryl. Let's settle back into this slowly. I'm afraid that your rush to get back into things right now…to just move right back in…is driven by panic and not by your real conviction to be back. We've got time before the baby comes to ease back into this. That's time for you to make sure this is what you want. We've done this every way but right so far, Daryl. We've rushed in and we've rushed right back out. This time I don't think we should rush."

"OK," Daryl said. "Then how ya wanna do this? What do we do this time?"

"Exactly what we're doing," Carol said. She shrugged. "We have dinner together…we spend time together. We talk and we do things and we don't take for granted that at the end of the day we're going to be living together."

"But you're lettin' me come back?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled.

"I told you…you can come back. But let's take the time we've got right now and do this right…I think we've rushed into things so quickly before that we've taken everything for granted. We skipped the dating part and went straight to being a married couple. We've hardly been able to talk to one another until tonight without prompts written on pieces of paper. It's a great system for helping us out a little…but I think we need to back up and go at this again," Carol said.

"Where do we start?" Daryl asked.

"What's your favorite color?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Blue," Daryl said. "But not dark blue…the bright blue. Yours?"

"Purple," Carol said. "All shades…light purple all the way to dark purple."

"This what the hell we gon' do now?" Daryl asked with a chuckle.

Carol smiled at him.

"It's a start," she said.


	97. Chapter 97

**AN: And it's onward we go. I'll try to get another chapter out (maybe) later…real life and all that jazz. LOL**

**Sorry, this chapter is not Caryl-centric, but as you know, those things happen from time to time.**

**Regardless, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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Merle had acquired one of the bowls of extremely stale peanuts that stayed on the corner of the bar at the Watering Hole. Only an idiot would have ever eaten any of them beyond the first taste that typically signaled that someone was new to the four star location. They didn't exactly change out the peanuts for fresh ones on a regular basis and Merle had seen more than a few dirty hands go into the bowls, not to mention the one or two times drinks had gotten spilled into them. They were really more for decoration than for eating.

But Merle had drug one of the bowls over to his space at the bar and he was sitting with it right in front of him. He might not want to eat the nuts, but he was amusing himself with them because they were annoying the shit out of Andrea. He was perfecting his aim and throwing them at her every time she came into his range. At first she'd been picking the things out of her hair or clothes and he knew how good his aim was by where she swatted when it made contact, but now she was seeming less bothered by them.

Andrea was ignoring him, acting like he didn't even exist, and Merle thought that was bullshit. Ever since the damn pumpkin festival shit that had taken place he'd been trying to talk to her ass and find out who the fucker was that she was messing around with, but she kept ignoring him.

To make matters worse, the skinny little fucker with his stupid ass mustache came in damn near every night and sat all the way across the bar and grinned at Andrea like a damn mule eating briars. Merle didn't have a real damn reason to want to do it, but for some reason he really wanted to punch the goofy motherfucker in the mouth.

And Andrea was being a first class cunt. On top of flat out ignoring his ass…because even though she couldn't ignore a bra full of stale peanuts, she could ignore him…she was rubbing extra hard on the skinny little dickhead and kissing all over him between hustling trays of cheap ass beer to the bar patrons.

"Andrea…Andrea…damn it bitch, you hear me!" Merle said as Andrea passed by him again, tray in hand. He pelted her with a couple more peanuts and she turned her head a second before setting up the tray, still ignoring him. Her little boyfriend wasn't in there yet, but Merle was sure he was coming. "What'cha doin' fuckin' that skinny little asshole? Hmmm? That damn desperate without ole Merle in ya life? Hmmm…" Merle was hoping she'd at least say something, though he really wasn't sure what he expected her to say. "He can't have a dick no bigger than that," Merle said, holding up his pinky finger in Andrea's direction. "Can't be satisfyin' ya…'member Andrea…I know what kinda person ya is…"

Andrea didn't respond, but the look on her face let Merle know he was getting to her. She was at least annoyed if nothing else and her motions were jerky. She snatched up the tray and started around him again, still ignoring him, and he sent a couple of peanuts flying after her with a chuckle.

Merle turned around, after watching Andrea walk off to deliver the drinks, and put his elbows on the bar. As he swung his head back around his eyes immediately focused on Carol who was standing directly across the bar from him, her arms folded tightly across her chest, staring at him.

"Leave Andrea alone, Merle," Carol said in a low growl. "What are you messing with her for anyway? What do you care if she's with Axel or sleeping with everyone in Georgia?"

Merle smirked.

"Hot damn…you're gettin' right ballsy Mouse…shit don't look good on ya. Why don't'cha go yank my brother's chain a lil' longer an' leave me the hell alone?" Merle said. He turned around, spotting Andrea at one of the pool table and turned back, expecting Carol to have scurried her little ass away somewhere, but she was still standing there in the same position except now her eyes were narrower than they were before.

Merle sucked his teeth and shook his head.

"Fuck ya want?" He asked, pouring himself another drink. Carol reached over and snatched the bottle away from him before he could snatch it back from her. "Gimme that shit back, I ain't done."

"I'm cutting you off," she said.

Merle chuckled.

"Can't do that," he said.

"I sure as hell can," Carol responded, putting the bottle under the bar. "We've got a right to cut off anyone that we think has had enough. Or did you want me to call Rick Grimes and have him come up here and confirm that you're sufficiently drunk for the evening?"

Merle growled at her. The bitch had the police officers in the sweet little town of Sweet Junction in her back pocket it seemed. Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh both frequented the establishment to keep "control" as they put it, but seldom did either of them take part in the libations. Typically they held down the corner booth and watched the drunks to make sure that there wasn't anyone getting ready to start a fight over one stupid thing or another and break a few of the quality chairs that Loretta drug in from whatever second hand shop supplied the seedy bar.

Merle glanced around behind him and noticed that the booth typically reserved for the men was empty at the moment. No one was in there to keep peace any damn way, but he didn't doubt that Carol would call one of them if he tried to get the bottle back from her.

"Fuck you…" Merle growled, not really having any other recourse at the moment. "Ya wanna be queen of this damn garbage heap? Well go ahead then."

He rested his elbows on the bar again and waited. Eventually she'd have to go serve some tables and he'd reach over and pluck the bottle back out from under the bar. He was in here so damn often that Loretta damn near considered him a manager of the fucking dump. He helped himself and dropped some bills in the register from time to time to keep the ample breasted proprietor satisfied.

"Leave Andrea alone," Carol repeated. "You've ignored her for this long, what's got you so riled up? Can't stand to see her with someone else? It's one of those things Merle…and I'm going to put this into your language so that you can wrap your head around it…you've got to either shit or get off the pot."

Merle raised his eyebrows at Carol. She didn't usually talk to him like this…or to anyone like this for that matter. He wasn't sure what she'd eaten that day but apparently she was trying to tap into her inner hell cat with all her might at the moment.

"What the hell you know about it?" Merle asked, a little annoyed at being challenged by the woman. "Take ya chunky ass on and work on gettin' ya fuckin' tips outta these drunk motherfuckers. What I do don't concern ya in the least bit."

Carol didn't move…didn't even budge except for to lean a little closer to Merle.

"Axel is good to Andrea," Carol said. "He treats her with respect. He treats her with kindness. He doesn't call her whore, or slut, or anything else. He calls her Andrea. He treats her like she's worth it. She's worth his respect, his time, and his money. If you're not prepared to offer her the same damn thing, then be a man for once Merle and walk away gracefully."

Merle raised his eyes at her.

"Fuck ya say ta me, Mouse?" Merle asked. "I'm a fuckin' man, so don't'cha get in my face an' say I ain't. I ain't my brothah an' I ain't gon' let'cha mouth ya ass off ta me."

Merle knew his threat was idle. He wasn't actually going to do anything at all to the woman. He didn't believe in laying his hands on a woman unless she had hers on him, and Carol didn't have the balls to take a swing at him. Andrea might have, but Carol wouldn't. Besides, for as much trouble as she caused him, Daryl was damn fond of the mousy little woman in front of him and he'd have come out of hiding to go a few a rounds with Merle if so much as looked at the little bitch harder than she thought was OK.

"You're not acting like a man, Merle," Carol said. "You're the one acting like a mouse. It's killing you that Andrea's found someone that's good for her and moved on from you. Either step up and learn how to be a real man or back off. She deserves a hell of a lot better than you."

"I'm serious," Merle said, starting to get really annoyed at Carol's new found attitude, wherever it was coming from. "Back up, Mouse. I ain't playin' with ya no more."

He swallowed and set his jaw, tipping his head to the side and hoping it was enough to make her think that he meant what he said and he might actually clock her one if she didn't step back and leave him alone.

Carol growled at him and held her stance another minute before snatching up one of the trays that was stacked nearby and starting around him to help serve the other people in the bar.

Once she was gone, Merle chuckled to himself and watched her storming away. He reached over the bar and plucked the bottle out again, fixing himself another drink.

He watched her serving some of the others, across the room from Andrea. She kept shooting him looks over her shoulder and he puckered and kissed at her which made her look all that much more annoyed.

The Mouse was getting some fire from somewhere…more than she used to have back when she'd damn near go through the roof just from catching a glimpse of her own shadow on the floor. Merle could somewhat see what might be the appeal there for Daryl, physically, in the woman, although she was chunking up a good bit more than she used to be, but he was still trying to wrap his mind around why his brother seemed so hellfire determined to be domestic with the bitch.

As Merle was contemplating this thought, he saw the skinny little twit that Andrea was seeing…Axel…come through the door into the smoky bar. The man stopped, as he typically did, at the old jukebox and stood there a minute choosing some out of date damn songs to play over the loud din of the other drinkers. Then he shuffled along a moment, walking right to where Andrea was leaning over a table, and Merle saw him reach out and pat the small of her back.

Andrea turned and looked over her shoulder at the physical contact and smiled at the man who returned the smile. He walked on toward the bar area, stopping a moment to shoot the shit with some drunk in plaid shirt that Merle didn't know, and finally made it to the other end of the bar, saddling up on one of the stools and peeling off the poor quality brown leather jacket that he was wearing, resting it on the empty stool next to him.

Carol came around a moment later, shooting Merle a look over her shoulder which he responded to with another air kiss and chuckled when her glare hardened a little more. She fixed a beer and took it to the man, sitting it down.

"How are things at the mill today?" Merle heard Carol ask.

Axel bobbed his head, taking a drink of the beer that coated his mustache in foam. He swiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Can't complain too damn much," Axel said. "Took Juny for a walk and swung by your house. Let Lincoln go with her."

"Thank you!" Carol said, her voice pleasant and sing songy...quite unlike the voice she'd been using with Merle earlier.

"Not a problem. I think Juny likes the company," Axel said. "What time ya get off tonight?"

"I'm closing down with Andrea," Carol responded. "She said I could leave earlier, but Loretta's off tonight and I don't like Andrea closing the bar down on her own."

Axel bobbed his head again.

"Yep…yep…better not to be out alone that late. I could hang 'round if you want. Don't got anything else to do," Axel said.

Carol shot Merle a quick look over her shoulder and turned back to Axel. She was aware that Merle was listening to the conversation, he knew that much.

"You don't have to do that," Carol said. "We'll be fine on our own. Rick's going to swing by at closing time and clear the place out after last call. Then we gotta clean up. You'd just be bored holding down a bar stool for all that time. Unless you wanted to take Andrea somewhere…leave early?"

Axel chuckled.

"Now if Andrea ain't fit to be closing down on her own," Axel said, "what makes you think I'm going to leave you here by yourself? Nah…rough side of town…it's better if you both stay put. I'll hang out, though, at least until Rick gets here."

Carol smiled and nodded.

"Just let me know if you need anything," she said. "We could throw something on to cook in the back if you're hungry."

Axel shook his head.

"Had leftovers from that chili Andrea made. Damn good shit but I'm about as full as a tick right now," Axel said.

Carol laughed and Merle thought it was pretty damn fake. Nothing the man said was that fucking funny. She patted Axel on the arm and turned around, fiddling with some shit behind the bar before walking back past him, shooting Merle another look.

Merle watched the skinny man a moment. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what the hell Andrea would be doing with the likes of him. The man slid off the stool again and walked over to the table where he'd spoken to the other guy in plaid and stood there, nursing his beer and talking to the man, his eyes on Andrea half the time as she bustled about.

Merle knew what the hell kind of woman Andrea was and she wasn't the kind of woman that would like this bland as fuck dumbass. Merle watched her as she headed back toward the bar. She circled around him once more like he didn't even exist and went digging through her pockets to deposit the dirty, sweaty money into the tip jars they kept tucked behind the bar.

"So ya decided now that'cha wanta play house with this fucker or what?" Merle asked. He glanced over at the skinny little asshole who wasn't paying them any attention for the conversation he was having. "Don't fuckin' ignore me, Andrea. I'm twice as big as ya fuckin' lil' boyfriend…I know ya can see my ass."

For the first time since the damn pumpkin fiasco, Andrea looked dead at him, her eyes focusing in on his. She walked over then, leaning across the bar and looking at him.

"Stop slinging fucking peanuts at me," Andrea growled. "And stopped making faces at Axel. Fuck you, Merle. You said you don't give one hot damn about me, so stop giving a damn now. I'm not your problem, remember? Axel likes me being his damn problem…so you should be happy. You've got what the hell you want now."

Merle reached across the bar and caught Andrea's arm, leaning in toward her.

"Ya tryin' ta tell me that this guy…that skinny little pussy lights you up?" Merle asked. "He know what kinda damn freak ya are?"

Andrea smirked.

"It's fucking killing you, isn't it?" She asked.

"Fuck ya talkin' 'bout?" Merle growled.

Andrea chuckled.

"It's killing you, Merle. You can't stand the fact that Axel actually likes me," Andrea said. "You did this to yourself, Merle. I offered you exactly the same package that I've offered Axel…more, actually…and you turned it down. This isn't kindergarten, Merle. You can't get pissed off because you put a toy down and someone else picked it up."

"Fuck you," Merle said. "I ain't no damn kid…an' just sos ya know, ya pussy ain't made a' gold or nothin'."

Andrea smiled softly at him.

"See, Merle? I can't even tell you that you could have the toy back if you acted like a big boy…because you haven't learned yet how to act like a big boy…and I don't have time anymore to play with toddlers," Andrea said.

Merle growled at her. He wasn't sure what the hell he wanted out of her, but it wasn't the smug ass attitude that she had right now. He didn't know what the fuck was in the water around this place but he thought it'd be a good damn idea not to drink any of it. It had people feeling far too damn big for their britches.

Andrea hooked her fingers under his and Merle felt her pry her way out of his grasp. She smiled again and took up a glass, filling it with beer. Merle threw back another shot and grit his teeth at her. As she circled around him again, she patted him on the shoulder.

Merle sat there for another few minutes. He wasn't sure why the hell this bothered him. He didn't need any damn body in his life and he certainly didn't need some nagging hell cat of a road whore like Andrea. He didn't need some woman thinking she had control of him…thinking she was going to turn him into some kind of pussy like the Axel fellow. He didn't need some woman thinking she had him trapped forever and had her damn claws sunk in for good, like Carol thought she was with Daryl. Merle didn't need that shit in his life. No damn woman was that special or that important that Merle Dixon was going to hand his balls over to her.

No, Merle didn't want to be a pussy like his little brother had turned into and he didn't want to hand his balls over to any damn woman. None of them were worth that shit.

He watched as Andrea walked over, interrupting the conversation between Axel and the other man for a moment to ask him something obviously. Axel nodded at her and their conversation went on for a second before she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, speaking to the other man before starting back on her rounds.

Merle Dixon wasn't built like that. He wasn't built to be that kind of damn man. It didn't appeal to him in the slightest.

Except for just a moment he wondered what the hell it might be like. He wondered how fucking far he'd actually have to go. He wasn't ever going to be no damn "welcome home dear" kind of asshole…but he wondered, if some woman actually was interesting enough to hold his attention for a long damn time, exactly how fucking far would he have to go?

Merle growled at himself, shoving the bottle in front of him toward the back of the bar for someone to put away. He stood up and thumbed out a couple of bills, dropping them in his spot as a tip. He'd tally up the rest of what the hell he owed with Loretta later. The damn whiskey was going to his fucking head and had him thinking some pretty stupid shit…had him thinking damn pussy thoughts like his fucking baby brother would have thought about. He was done with that shit for the night. He'd walk his ass down to the corner store and buy some cigarettes and then he was going back to his fucking apartment where he didn't have to see this shit and have this probably spoiled ask whiskey making him think about shit like that.

Merle grabbed his jacket off the empty stool beside where he'd been sitting and stomped out of the bar, casting one last glance in the direction of Andrea as he slipped through the heavy wooden door and out into the streets of Sweet Junction.


	98. Chapter 98

**AN: OK, another little chapter for you, moving forward with our couple. Lots of things on the horizon, but we'll get to them in their due time! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl showed up at the house for their "date" at the hour Carol had appointed him. When he got there she was grinning ear to ear as she held the door open for him. He couldn't have avoided smiling back at her if he'd wanted to. The smile was absolutely contagious.

"What's got into ya?" He asked as she shut the door behind him.

Daryl turned around to face her and she was still smiling. He felt like he could barely breathe for the moment. He swallowed hard.

"It's just been a busy day," she said. "And a good one. Michonne's been spoiling me…spoiling us."

"What'd she do?" Daryl asked. The news was nothing new. Michonne had a tendency to do things for Carol on a regular basis.

"Well, she and Ty got a new television, so we've got a new old television…and a new old DVD player…and I borrowed a movie for us to watch tonight," Carol said. "And she gave me some things for the baby. You want to see?"

Daryl smiled at her. He wasn't sure if she was asking if he wanted to see things for the baby or if he wanted to see the television, but he was willing to look at whatever had her grinning like an idiot.

"Sure," he said with a chuckle.

Carol took his hand and started leading him through the house so he figured they were probably going to look at baby things. He'd noticed that in the past couple of days she would talk about other things and do other things, but that kid stayed right at the front of her brain. It was always on her mind. He didn't really know if all women were like that, but Carol certainly was.

Daryl followed Carol into the nursery. There was a table of sorts in there that wasn't in there when he'd come in to see the crib and there was also an old dresser.

"The changing table was an extra she had in the attic…someone gave it to her and she only needed one so she kept it," Carol said, walking over and rubbing her fingertips across the table. "The dresser needs to be redone to be nice, but it works for now."

Daryl walked over and looked at the dresser. It was a nice old piece. Really all it needed was a good sanding and to be re-stained and it would be good as new. Some knew hardware wouldn't hurt it either.

"I could fix the dresser for ya," Daryl said. He turned to look at Carol and she was still beaming.

"Really?" She asked. "I was going to see if Andrea would help me fix it…but if you want to do it…"

Daryl chuckled.

"Well now if ya want ta do it with Andrea then I'll let'cha," he said, "but it ain't no problem for me ta fix it. Just gon' need ta move it prob'ly under the carport out there on an old sheet or somethin' an' I can sand it down an' stain it. Won't even take a weekend."

Carol squealed a little and before he knew it she was hugging him. He chuckled a little and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her a little. After a second she relaxed, but stayed there, her head resting on his chest.

"What movie did'ja get us?" Daryl asked. He figured it was some chick flick, she loved the hell out of those things. When they'd lived in her apartment she'd watch nearly every damn one she could find on television.

"It's an old movie," Carol said. "It's called Yours, Mine, and Ours. It's got Lucille Ball in it."

Daryl took a second to rub his hand down her back. The truth was he didn't care at all what movie they watched. He was just glad she was letting him stay to watch it.

"Where's Andrea?" He asked, not wanting to break away from the hug any sooner than he absolutely had to.

"She's out with Axel," Carol said. "They went to a two for one movie night down at the cinema."

"So they watchin' movies in town an' we watchin' movies here?" Daryl asked.

Carol pulled away then looking up at him.

"Would you rather go into town?" She asked.

Daryl smiled and shook his head.

"Nah…I reckon we got the better deal here," he said.

"Let's go get the movie set up then," Carol said. "I'll make popcorn and it'll be just like being there."

Daryl followed her back through the house and sat on the couch with Lincoln while she set up the movie and went into the kitchen to get popcorn going in the microwave. Daryl slipped out of his shoes and got comfortable. At least watching movies at the house meant they didn't have to maintain the etiquette required in public.

"What's your favorite movie?" Carol called over the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"Your favorite movie," Carol repeated. "What is it?"

Daryl hadn't really thought about it before. They didn't watch a lot of movies when he was growing up and he really wasn't a huge fan of movies. Sometimes he'd gone to see them in one shit town or another that he'd lived in, but mostly it had been to kill time that wouldn't die otherwise and he hadn't bothered to learn the names of most of what he'd seen.

"Don't know," he said. "Reckon I don't got one."

Carol came around and brought him a glass of tea. The lack of furniture made him look around for what he was supposed to do with it when he wasn't holding it and she frowned.

"I know…" she said. "We don't have much furniture."

He watched as she went to the dining room and drug one of the chairs out of there and over to the side of the couch for him to balance the glass on. He would have helped, but honestly she had it under control before he'd really realized what she was doing.

"You can be the keeper of the glasses," Carol said. "I'll get the popcorn and we're ready."

Carol came back to the room a few minutes later with the popcorn and moved Lincoln, against his wishes, down to the other end of the couch, sitting down and snuggling against Daryl. He smiled to himself and thought that he really like the idea of movies at the house.

"Do you have a favorite actor or actress?" Carol asked, the remote in her hand but the movie still waiting to be started.

Daryl reached his arm around her and rubbed at her arm, just at the crook of her elbow.

"Don't know," he said. "Guess I kinda like John Wayne."

Carol looked at him and smiled.

"Looks like we'll have to get some Westerns then," she said. "I don't mind John Wayne. I love Lucille Ball. She's so funny…and did you know she never really even tried to be? It wasn't supposed to be her thing, it just sort of happened. I saw a documentary on it once."

Daryl chuckled.

"Ya sure wound up tonight," Daryl said.

"I'm sorry," Carol said, resting her head against his chest again.

"Don't start that shit," Daryl warned. He knew that Carol had times when she got started apologizing about things and then it was damn near impossible to get her to stop. "I like it…I guess I just weren't expectin' it."

"What were you expecting?" She asked, sitting up a little and looking at him as she ate the popcorn methodically, biting off little pieces of each puff as though popcorn was supposed to be more than a one bite deal.

"I figured ya was gonna be…I don't know…kinda mad at me still," Dary said.

"Daryl, I told you that I'm not mad at you," Carol said. "That's not the point of this. I'm not mad and you're not being punished. The point of this is…well…it's just this. It's just us getting to know each other and spending some time with each other. I don't want to be mad at you."

Daryl moved his other hand, the one not wrapped around her shoulder, and rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

"I don't want'cha ta be mad at me neither," he said. "Can I kiss ya or is that off limits for this date?"

Carol smiled and leaned up toward him and he brought his lips to hers. He kissed her softly, barely teasing her with his tongue and caught her lip with his teeth. When he pulled away she was staring at him with the somewhat drunken look she got when she was turned on and then she cleared her throat.

"Let's start the movie," she said.

Daryl chuckled. This wasn't going to be fast. She'd meant what she said about them taking their time. The kiss had gotten to her, though, and it had gotten to him. If they'd held it for too much longer he wouldn't have been able to will himself not to pitch a tent in his pants like he was some fucking teenager making out at the movies.

Daryl shifted a little and Carol settled down against him again, pushing play on the movie.

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Carol was glad she'd seen the movie about four hundred times in her life because she surely wasn't concentrating on it right this minute. She thought this was important for them…the whole taking it slow. It was something that she felt like they really needed if they were going to go at this relationship again and have a chance of it actually working this time instead of ending in one of them running in the other direction.

It was killing her, though, to keep arm's distance between the two of them, so to speak. She wasn't really sure, since she hadn't fully worked the details out for herself in her head, exactly what they were allowed to do and what they weren't allowed to do. She didn't know if it would be OK for them to sleep together or not. On the one hand her brain argued that they'd already slept together plenty of times…after all, she didn't get pregnant from drinking after him…but on the other hand she worried that sleeping together might make it too easy to move to him spending the night…and then another night…until he'd just easily moved back in and they'd abandoned the entire plan without so much as a second thought.

She wasn't really sure, as far as dating went, when it was OK to sleep with a man. When she'd been dating Ed, which was really her only experience before this, she'd waited until she was married to be with him. That meant that she didn't really have that as a reference point.

She could go by her friends, but that wasn't much help. Andrea slept with who she wanted to sleep with when she wanted to sleep with them. From the stories she told she'd slept with Merle before she ever considered dating him. She'd really viewed that as being something, in the beginning, like what Merle thought it was…just sex. According to Andrea she'd never really out and out dated anyone…at least not officially…until Axel. Now the two of them were dating, but Carol knew that…at least until tonight because she didn't know what might happen after the double feature…Andrea hadn't slept with Axel yet.

And then there was Michonne. All Carol really knew about her dating life was that she had pretty much the same mentality as Andrea. She slept with who she felt like sleeping with in the exact moment that she felt like it was right. She'd slept with Tyreese before she considered him anything more than just her Adonis.

So Carol wasn't really sure how long she was supposed to "date" Daryl before it was OK for them to consider having sex with him again.

She brooded over it while they watched the movie. To the point, in fact, that when the movie went off, she hardly even realized that it was over and that they'd left their drinks and popcorn almost abandoned since she'd started it. She wouldn't have even really paid attention to the fact that it was over if Daryl hadn't reached over her and picked up the remote, switching the thing off.

Carol sat up, then, realizing that Daryl was sweating where she'd been leaning against him. She was damp and his clothes were sticking to him, wet with his sweat and hers.

"You didn't tell me you were hot," Carol said, rubbing at the wet spot on his shirt.

Daryl pulled the clinging fabric away from his skin and sighed a little.

"Didn't matter," he said. "Ya like a oven, though. Ya feelin' OK?"

Carol thought about it. She was pretty sure she felt fine. She wrinkled her eyebrows.

"I think I'm fine," she said.

Daryl nodded a little.

"OK," he said. "Just checkin'…ya hotter than ya usually is…" He chuckled after a minute. "An' even though I always think ya hot I meant temperature wise this time."

Carol smiled at him.

"I think I'm fine," she said. "Did you like the movie?"

"Yeah…" Daryl said. "I like it. That'd be some shit to have that many damn kids, wouldn't it?"

Carol chuckled.

"I think that might be a few too many," she said.

Daryl shifted around, turning so he could face her better. It was pretty dark in the living room, but Carol didn't feel like moving to turn any lights on. The glow from the kitchen light that she'd left on would have to suffice for now. Daryl didn't seem to be complaining though.

Daryl fiddled with her hair for a moment, looking at her in a way that almost made her uncomfortable. Then he moved his hand to cup her face and she felt him brush his thumb across her lips before he swallowed visibly and moved in to kiss her again.

Carol felt like her body would explode. Her breathing picked up immediately and she fought back the urge to moan. She'd wanted to be with Daryl every time they'd been together, but the way she felt right now was electric to her by any standards. She wanted him bad enough that, if she let herself go, she felt like she'd hurt him trying to get his clothes off fast enough to make her happy. She fought it, though, telling herself she'd only them to kiss…to make out like teenagers maybe…but she wasn't letting it go all the way.

Daryl pulled away, his own breathing heavy, and Carol had to admire that he was obviously trying to hold back as well. It made her feel better that she didn't have to be the bad guy and say no to something that they both wanted.

"So how many damn kids ya want?" Daryl asked. "I think like twenty's way too damn many…but how many ya want?"

Carol shifted and slid a little away from him, ignoring the protests of her body. She drew her legs up under her on the couch.

"I don't know," she said. She laughed a little to herself. "I always said I wanted six…but I don't know if I actually want six or if it was just a number that I threw to myself."

"Well now this is serious," Daryl said. "If we gettin' ta know each other so we can be happy together for the rest a' our fuckin' lives, we need ta know how many damn kids we gon' have."

Carol chuckled. He was teasing with her, but she could tell that under his teasing there was at least a hint of sincerity.

"How many do you want?" She asked.

Daryl bit at his lip.

"Ain't never thought about it," he said. "I figured you'd know how damn many we was gonna have."

"Well I shouldn't be the only one to decide," Carol said. "You've got an opinion too. You said twenty was too many…so how many is just enough?"

Daryl chuckled and raised his eyebrows at her.

"Ya want twenty?" He asked.

Carol shook her head.

"No, I don't want twenty," she said. "I want to know how many you want."

Daryl thought about it for a minute and Carol took some of the popcorn out of the bag, offering it to Lincoln who was nudging her back with his nose from the couch cushion he apparently was considering some sort of prison.

"Well ya said six," Daryl said. "Ya like six?"

"Mmm…" Carol hummed. "I don't know…six is a lot now that I'm really thinking about it."

Daryl chuckled.

"How 'bout we split it then? We say three? Wouldn't mind more if we had 'em, but we can call three a nice number," Daryl said.

Carol thought about it a minute.

"But then we have a middle child," she said. "And then you've got all that poor middle child business. I think we need an even number. Two or four?"

"Hell…" Daryl said after a minute, "My part in this shit's pretty damn easy. Ya the one that's pregnant. How many fuckin' times ya wanna do this? Two or four?"

Carol nodded her head.

"That's a good point," she said. "I like how you think. Let's wait until this one's born and then we'll talk about it."

Daryl nodded his head.

"Sounds fair enough," he said. "Ain't like we can have any a' the others until this one gets here no damn way."

Carol smiled at him.

"You're right," she said. "There's no room at the inn…this one has to evacuate long before we have to make a decision about another one. Still, it's good to know where we both stand on these things. That way we don't have to argue about it later if we don't agree on how many we want."

Daryl shrugged.

"That ain't shit ta argue about right there," he said. "I reckon I don't really care. I think I'd go fuckin' nuts with twenty kids runnin' around, but if they made ya fuckin' happy I could deal with it. We'd need a bigger fuckin' house, though, that's for damn sure!"

Carol laughed.

"Yeah…let's just hold off on the twenty…if that's alright with you," she said.

"Fine with me, woman," Daryl said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back toward him despite the fact that she'd made him sweat earlier.

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Daryl thought the night had been a good one. It had been so good, in fact, that he really didn't want it to end. They hadn't really done much of anything and he'd done his best to be on the best behavior he could possibly be on. Physically they'd cuddled a little on the couch, kissed a few times…but that was it. He'd even willed himself to keep from sliding a hand to cup Carol's breast, even though his brain…or whichever one of them was functioning at the moment…had offered him that suggestion a few times.

They'd talked about this future together that they were supposedly going to have. Things they wanted and didn't want. Most of them were things that Daryl hadn't really thought about, but he'd liked thinking about them and he'd liked talking about them with Carol and daydreaming that they'd come true.

What he'd mostly thought, and what he hadn't said to her, though, was that he hoped that whenever this trial period was over and whenever their dating thing was done that he would know how to do things right. Somehow they would hold it together and they'd work this out so that all the things they'd talked about and all the things that they'd planned really turned out to be more than just daydreams.

It was killing him to know that, as Axel and Andrea interrupted them coming home from their date and reminding Carol that he had to eventually leave, he had to get back and his truck and drive to the Greene farm to sleep alone in the little apartment that he was hating at the moment. He wanted to stay there with her and he wanted to sleep with her. He wanted to be back in the house and have permission to kiss her and touch her whenever he wanted like he'd had before. But he was determined to try to keep control of himself. If this was what they really needed, and if this was what it was going to take to get them both over all the shit that they needed to get the hell over, so that they could actually quit dreaming about making shit work and actually make it work, then he could damn well keep control of himself for however damn long it took. He just had to learn how to shut the impatient little fucker up that lived inside him and hoped it didn't take too damn long.


	99. Chapter 99

**AN: Here we go! I can't believe we're almost at 100 chapters! Holy smokes! Y'all getting sick of me yet? LOL**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl came out of the barn carrying the extra parts that he'd been sent up to get. He was helping Hershel try to get an old tiller working and he hated to tell the man that he thought they were putting a whole damn lot of work into the thing that wasn't going to pay off. Still, Hershel paid him for a day's work so he didn't really give a damn what he did during that day. If this was how he was supposed to spend it, then this is how the hell he was supposed to spend it.

Daryl had heard a vehicle pull up while he'd been finding all the shit the old man needed and he glanced toward the farmhouse on his way out the barn. He stopped for a minute, not quite registering the fact that Carol's truck was parked outside the farmhouse.

As soon as the familiarity of the truck, which he wasn't used to seeing parked in front of the Greene house, registered for Daryl, he felt his stomach do the kind of loop de loo that it had done the few times he'd ever dared to ride a rollercoaster.

Carol didn't come out to the Greene farm while he was working. She was almost always working when he was. That was just the way that things went and seeing her truck there threw him.

Daryl tried to figure out if he should put down what he was carrying and go to the farmhouse to see what was wrong or if he should continue to the field where Hershel was waiting for him. He paused for a moment and when he realized that Carol nor Miss Jo was coming out the house and looking for him, he decided to take the parts to Hershel and tell the old man that he needed a minute to run back up to the house and just make sure that everything was fine.

So Daryl set off for the field where Hershel was waiting, double timing his steps to close the distance in half the time. He didn't realize, until he dropped everything he was carrying on the ground near where Hershel was kneeling down working, that he'd damn near run the whole way and he was out of breath.

"What's wrong, Daryl?" Hershel asked, looking at him.

Daryl assumed his face might have given away a little bit more of what his stomach was feeling than he had initially wanted it to. He had really no reason at all to believe there was anything wrong other than the fact that Carol was there and she wasn't usually there. He'd tried to convince himself that it was nothing and she was probably there for some woman thing with Miss Jo or something, but his stomach just didn't like the fact that this was not something he was used to.

Daryl struggled a moment to get his breath and swallow before answering Hershel who had made it to his feet now and was looking very concerned.

"I need a minute…" Daryl panted. "Carol's up at the house an' I need ta go an' make sure everythin's OK."

Hershel looked at Daryl with tightly closed lips and knit eyebrows and nodded his head.

"Well of course," Hershel said. "I'm sure there's nothing wrong, though, Daryl. Take your time getting up there or you'll give yourself a heart attack, son."

Daryl nodded and turned, clearing the space in even less time than he had when he'd been coming and trying to carry the heavy parts.

As Daryl neared the farmhouse, he saw Carol stepping out and walking to him. Miss Jo was on the porch and watching them. Carol wasn't walking quickly, though, and Daryl wondered if he looked foolish darting across the span of land. He was going to feel like a drama queen, as Merle called him sometimes, for freaking out if it wasn't anything, but he'd rather feel like a drama queen than have something confirm that it was fine for him to worry like this.

"Ya OK?" He called out as he got closer to Carol.

Before she could answer he'd closed the distance between them and stood in front in of her. Carol looked like she'd been crying, though she wasn't actively crying at the moment. She didn't answer him when he got there, she just looked at him and he felt his stomach do another colossal lurch.

Whether or not he wasn't supposed to touch her or whatever the damn agreement dictated, Daryl reached out and put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him. He didn't know what was wrong, but her face alone confirmed that there was something wrong and whatever it was had been bad enough that she'd bothered to apparently get off work and drive all the way out the Greene farm to see him.

"What's wrong," he asked, pushing her against his chest and rubbing her back with his hand. "Jesus, Carol…what's wrong?"

He could barely breathe and his brain was offering him every damn thing that ever go wrong in his whole life. Everything in his brain was burning down for the moment.

"I'm fine…it's fine…" Carol said. "Calm down, Daryl."

Daryl pushed her away. Her voice didn't go with her words and her face.

"Carol," Daryl said, calming a little in spite of himself. "What's wrong? Tell me?"

Carol shook her head.

"I shouldn't have come out here and bothered you," Carol said. "It's really nothing, Daryl. I just…I just wanted to see you…to talk to you…but it's really nothing. It can wait until you're off work."

Daryl glanced around. Miss Jo was sitting on the porch in one of the rocking chairs and when he glanced back toward the field where he'd left Hershel he could see the old man headed in their direction, either to talk to them or to go and ask Miss Jo what she knew about the situation.

"It's OK," Daryl said, still not sure what the problem was. "We can go for a walk."

Daryl steered Carol off to the left and over toward the tree line where he walked with Hershel on the days that he needed to walk and chat with the man. It was a nice little area that lead straight down to the pond. Carol followed him and walked along in silence beside him until they'd gone for just a bit. She seemed a little calmer and Daryl was calming too.

Maybe whatever it was really wasn't all that bad after all. Daryl thought that once upon a time he might have been annoyed at getting that worked up over nothing, but the truth was right this moment he didn't care if it wasn't a damn thing at all other than the fact she just wanted a minute to walk with him down to the Greene's pond.

"I got subpeoned today…" Carol said, finally.

"What?" Daryl asked. He wasn't sure what she was on about, but he was sure she'd explain in her own way and her own time.

"Daryl…I have to go to court. Ed's case…it's up in court and I have to go. I'm a witness…or something like that, I guess," Carol said.

Daryl looked at her, stopping their walk for a minute, realizing that absentmindedly he'd somehow wrapped her hand in his as they walked along.

"A witness? What the hell'd ya witness?" He asked.

Carol pulled her hand free from his and crossed her arms tight and awkwardly across her chest. She looked around the land around them and looked anywhere but at him. Finally she shrugged, still not looking at him.

"I don't know…" She said. "I don't know what they want exactly. I'm just supposed to go…and I guess answer questions."

"What Michonne say about it?" Daryl asked, concerned. He knew that Michonne had said before that Ed's case this time didn't have anything to do with Carol, so he didn't know what she was having to go to court for.

Carol shrugged again.

"There's nothing she can say, Daryl," Carol said. "I've got to go in and answer questions…take the stand about whatever it is they ask me about. You know the drill…tell the truth, the whole truth…Andrea…she got a letter too."

"What the hell did she get a letter for?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head. She caught Daryl's eye for a minute and he could tell that she was fighting crying.

"I don't know," she said. "They don't tell you any of that, Daryl. Just that you have to be in court on a given day and that's it...You might even get one, I don't know. Michonne said it's probably some angle that Blake is trying to pull, but no one knows for sure."

Daryl thought about it, but he really wasn't sure about any of this court shit or what might happen. He knew, though that Carol wasn't going to be one bit happy about having to go into a room and answer questions about Ed.

"Is that fucker gonna be there?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

"It's his case, Daryl, of course he's going to be there," Carol said.

Daryl decided to excuse the slightly irritated tone in her voice. He doubted sincerely that she was annoyed with him and was probably just pissed off with the situation at the moment. He was pissed about it too. He didn't know what the hell Carol had to do with a court case trying to get Ed's sorry ass out of jail when she was the one who really wanted him there more than anyone else in the world.

Daryl stubbed his toe in the dirt and tried to figure out what to say or even what was supposed to be happening.

"When ya gotta go?" He asked.

"Next week," Carol said. "My letter says three days, but Andrea's only got one day. Michonne wants to go with me. She said she can go in for support or something like that and maybe get a feel for what Blake's doing or what his chances are at…" Carol broke off in her speaking and Daryl watched her tighten her arms tighter around her body. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, not really knowing what to do with the body language that she was wearing at the moment. "At getting Ed out of there…" Carol finished.

Daryl nodded his head a little and looked around, wishing there was some kind of answer written in the air somewhere.

"Hey," he said, "don't worry about it, OK? Ya want me ta go with ya too? I can sit in the back. Ya gon' know I'm there."

Carol looked at him and he hated to see the look that was in her eyes. It was a look of fear and it was a look that he couldn't take away from her.

"I don't know if they'd let you in," Carol said. "I don't know if they're going to let Michonne in…I don't know how it works."

Daryl squeezed both her shoulders then.

"Then I go an' if they don't let me in I sit in the fuckin' truck in the parkin' lot," Daryl said. "You'll know I'm out there, though, an' I'm waitin' on ya. Ain't no big deal. Ya just gon' walk in there with ya damn head held high an' ya gon' tell them fuckers what the hell they oughta know 'bout Ed Peletier, an' then ya gon' walk right back out an' I'll be waitin' in the truck for ya."

"Daryl," Carol said. "What if I say something that helps him? What if I say something that gets Ed out?"

Daryl rubbed her shoulders again, kneading them below his fingers.

"Ya ain't gon' say shit that can help Ed. Ya gon' tell him what kinda fucker he was an' what he done to ya. Ya gon' tell 'em what he woulda done to ya. Andrea's gonna do the same damn thing an' they'll see the asshole needs ta stay right the fuck where he is," Daryl said. "Hell…if they got any damn sense they'll just throw the fuckin' key out the damn window."

"What if it comes back on you…what if something happens and you…and Merle…what if they try to do something to you?" Carol asked. "What if Ed tries something like that?"

Daryl sighed and pulled her to him then, even though she didn't undo her arms from their position to wrap them around him. He rubbed her back and rubbed his chin against her head.

"Ain't nothin' gon' happen ta me or ta Merle…fucker that he is. We ain't done shit ta Ed that weren't out of defendin' you an' defendin' Andrea an' I'd tell the whole damn court that. I'd do it again, too, an' if they wanta put my ass in prison for stoppin' Ed from beatin' on y'all an' let his sorry ass go free, then I ain't got one damn bit a' faith left in this whole fuckin' country," Daryl said.

Carol wrapped her arms around him then and finally broke into the sob that she'd been holding back for the most part. Daryl squeezed her tighter to him and rubbed her back a moment more feeling a knot rising in his own throat. He didn't want her subjected to being a room with that asshole either. Whether or not the kind people of the court would ever let Ed touch her didn't really matter. Just thinking of the fucker messed with her head and seeing him would be an extra bad situation. There wasn't a damn thing that Daryl could do to stop it, though.

Daryl pushed her away, finally, and tipped her face up toward him, holding her chin between his pointer finger and his thumb.

"Hey…none a' this, OK?" Daryl said. "Ya don't walk in there an' let that fucker think he's got'cha. Ya walk in there with ya head held high. Let him know ya done gone on without his ass. Ya done found ya another fuckin' asshole for ya life…an' ya done got'cha a kid on the way…ya don't belong to Ed Peletier no more, so don't give him not one damn bit a' satisfaction. Ya look at me or ya look at Michonne or ya look at Andrea…don't'cha even look at that fucker."

Carol wrapped her arms around him again and he let her sink against his chest again for the moment. He didn't know this lawyer guy, but he hated the man just to think that he'd be willing to take some kind of case to get Ed out of jail. Now that he'd found out more about the whole damn thing and found out that Ed only had five fucking years to serve anyway, he thought it was a crock of shit that someone was trying to get that lessened or taken away completely. Daryl thought that just what Ed had done to Carol the night that he and Merle had been there should probably have gotten his ass five years and to think about all the bragging he'd done before that made Daryl's blood boil.

He almost wished they'd ask him up on the stand so he could tell the whole fucking place what he thought about Ed Peletier. How fucked up he was and how, because he was such an asshole, Carol couldn't let go of so much of his shit.

Except he wasn't the one being called in there.

After a few minutes of standing there, hugging him, Carol finally straightened up and rubbed her fingers up under her eyes, swiping away the tears that had fallen.

"Feelin' better?" Daryl asked. He knew it was a stupid question, but he didn't really know what else to ask.

"Yeah," Carol said almost too quietly for him to hear her.

Daryl tipped her face up again and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her softly and holding it, their lips just barely pressed together for a moment. He only moved his head when he heard her sigh, catching her breath that was still jagged from the few sobs that were remaining.

"Ya gonna be alright ta go home or ya want me ta drive ya?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him. Her eyes seemed bigger right now, fuller…though Daryl knew they weren't any different than they normally were except for the fact that any hint of a smile that might have made her squint them a little was gone.

"I'll be fine," she said, her voice still a little shaky.

Daryl put his arm around her and started leading her back toward the Greene's farmhouse.

"Where's Andrea?" He asked.

"She's working at the Korean place right now," Carol said. "She gets off at seven or something like that. I don't know…"

"Listen," Daryl said. "I don't wantcha goin' ta the house alone, not right now. Can ya stay here an' hang out with Miss Jo for a bit?"

Carol stopped walking and Daryl stopped with her. She looked at him, a little tiny bit of a smile on her lips.

"I'll be fine, Daryl," Carol said. "I'm not going to go home and do anything crazy or anything."

Daryl looked at her. He honestly hadn't thought she'd go home and do anything. He just thought it might be better for her to be distracted for a little while and he still had a couple of hours of work that he owed Hershel. Daryl knit his eyebrows together, now concerned that he'd might have missed something that he needed to be worried about.

"I was thinkin' ya should stay with Miss Jo for a bit," Daryl said. "I was thinkin' ya could talk ta her 'bout the baby an' 'bout cookin' an' all that shit you women like ta talk about so damn much. Then I can follow ya back ta the house…I ain't gotta stay the night nor nothin' but I could stay 'til ya ready ta go ta sleep."

Carol sighed audibly and looked toward the farmhouse.

"That's sweet, Daryl, but I don't want to put anyone out. I can just go back to the house. There's nothing that Miss Jo can do…or you can do for that matter. This is just something that I've got to do…" Carol said.

Daryl pushed her forward and continued toward the house.

"I was gonna come an' try ta see ya anyway after work," Daryl said. "That ain't like it's no big change a' plans. An' Miss Jo loves some company an' ya light up when ya talkin' with her. It'd do ya good ta talk all that baby shit with her…"

Daryl wasn't really sure why, but he wanted Carol to stay there. Even if he'd be working with Hershel, he wanted her there where he knew where she was and that she was alright and she wasn't more upset than she had to be.

"I want'cha ta stay here," he said finally. "I'll ask Miss Jo myself if she minds, but I betcha she don't. She's old an' old people like havin' people ta talk with 'em."

Carol snickered a little.

"I'm not sure you should necessarily word it that way, Daryl," Carol said.

When they neared the farmhouse, Hershel and Miss Jo both were on the porch, watching them.

"Everything alright?" Hershel called.

"Fine," Daryl said. "Just fine."

He stood there a moment, his arm around Carol's shoulder.

"Miss Jo…ya reckon ya could use some company, just 'til I'm off for the day? Might could talk about some stuff or cook somethin'…or I don't know what'cha do with company…but'cha reckon ya might like some?" Daryl asked.

Carol started to protest, but Jo got to her feet, already smiling.

"I would love some company," Jo declared. "You know, Carol Ann, I've got a few baby things in the attic we could have a look at. My girls…they aren't really interested in any of my stuff…they say it's all too old and they don't really want it…but there are some nice things in there if you don't mind old…if you'd like to take a look at it we could see what's in there."

Daryl looked at Carol and smiled, nudging her a little. He could see the fear and the sadness just below the surface. Her eyes looked tired like they did when she was upset about something, but she did muster up a smile.

"OK," she said. "We could look…but I won't take anything that's supposed to go to the girls."

Jo stepped to the edge of the porch around Hershel and held her arm out in Carol's direction, smiling.

"Come on, then, let's go keep busy while the boys are working on that old tractor that's never going to run," Jo said.

"It's going to run fine, Jo," Hershel said.

Jo chuckled and waved Carol forward. Carol turned and looked at Daryl for a minute and he dropped his head pecking her gently on the lips before pushing her forward a little so that she'd cross the distance between them and the porch.

He waited as Hershel descended the same steps that Carol was climbing and watched as Jo took Carol inside before he started toward the field with Hershel.

"Something to do with Ed?" Hershel asked.

Daryl didn't say anything. He didn't know if Carol wanted anyone knowing what was going on.

"She mentioned something to Jo about it. I heard he's going to court. It'll be a cryin' shame the day and hour they let Ed Peletier…or anyone like him for that matter…go free as a bird," Hershel said.

"We hopin' it don't happen for a long damn time," Daryl said. "Reckon if it does, though, we'll do what the hell we gotta do."

Hershel nodded his head and kept step beside Daryl. He clapped Daryl on the shoulder and then Daryl flinched a little as Hershel squeezed the back of his neck.

"I'm sure you will, son," Hershel said. "You're a good man…and Carol Ann's a good woman. The Lord looks out for people like that…one way or another."


	100. Chapter 100

**AN: Wow! Well, here we go! The big 100! **

**We've still got a way to go in this story, so I hope you're not bored with it yet! I'm really thrilled that so many of you have hung with me through this many chapters! It's very exciting to me to think that you like the story so much! I hope you'll continue to like it as we go forward.**

**As always, I thank you all for your comments and reviews. It means more to me than I can say that you are enjoying the world of Sweet Junction. You're all awesome! Thank you again for reading! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Miss Jo had seemed to at least distract Carol a little bit. Daryl had followed her back to the house after work and he'd carried inside a large box that she'd brought with her, putting it smack in the middle of the nursery floor per her instructions. In exchange, she'd agreed that he could shower there and spend the rest of the evening with her.

So Daryl had left Carol with her mystery box of baby things and he'd taken his change of clothes and slipped into the bathroom. He quickly bathed, happy to be back in the familiar space of the bathroom even.

He couldn't help but think, though, while he was showering, of all the times that Carol would slip into the shower with him or he'd slip in with her. He almost expected, though not with any real conviction for her to slip in there tonight. When she didn't, though, he wasn't too surprised. He shut off the water, toweling off, and got dressed quickly in his clean clothes. He considered taking the dirty ones back with him for Miss Jo to do when she got his laundry, but on second thought he dropped them into the hamper, figuring it wouldn't hurt to have a few changes of clothes there beyond what he'd left behind when he packed to go on his stupid fucking hiatus that had got him caught up in this mess.

Daryl stepped out of the bedroom and made his way into the nursery where the light was shining. He figured Carol was in there going through whatever treasures she'd acquired. The door was a little cracked so he pushed it open. Carol was in the middle of the floor with things spread out around her.

Daryl leaned against the door frame and watched her for a moment before she turned her head, obviously realizing he was present. She smiled a slight smile at him.

"Look at all of this," Carol said. She had something in her lap folded up…it looked like a white blanket and she ran her hand across it. "I can't believe Maggie and Beth didn't want these. Look at them. They're all so beautiful and Miss Jo made them herself."

"What the hell is it?" Daryl asked.

"This is a receiving blanket," Carol said. "Look it's all lace and she knitted it. Some of these are just crib blankets, things like that."

"Why ya need so many damn blankets?" Daryl asked. Carol frowned at him and he snickered. "Sorry…guess I didn't realize ya need so damn many."

"Babies need things, Daryl," Carol said. "And Miss Jo made them…it'd be a shame to just let the moths eat them in their attic when the baby can use them. I don't have any of my things from when I was a baby."

She looked a little sad about it and Daryl walked around, sitting on the floor on the other side of the box she was looking through.

"What happened to ya stuff?" He asked.

Carol sighed.

"Mama got rid of most of it," Carol said. "I guess my dad was a little like Maggie and Beth. Out with the old and in with the new. He told her that by the time I grew up and had kids I wouldn't want all that stuff so she shouldn't crowd up the attic with it."

Daryl nodded his head a little and picked up one of the smaller items folded on the floor. He unfolded it and looked at it.

"And this? This a blanket too?" He asked. "Pretty damn small…"

Carol chuckled.

"That's a burping cloth, Daryl," Carol said.

"Kid's got special blankets for burpin'?" Daryl asked with a chuckle.

"It's for when they spit up," Carol explained. "A lot of the time when you burp a baby they'll spit up a little, so that keeps you from wearing the spit up…at least when you remember to throw it over your shoulder."

Daryl didn't know much about babies, but he had a feeling he was heading straight for a crash course when this one got done baking.

"I don't reckon my Ma woulda kept none a' that stuff either," Daryl said. He thought about it for a moment. He couldn't imagine, from what he could remember of his mother, her ever even really being that much of a mother. He couldn't imagine, for instance, her taking the time to make all these damn blankets like Miss Jo or even to fawn over them like Carol. He could have been wrong, and she might have been a hell of a lot different when they were babies, but he didn't remember her being that kind. "Even if she did, by the time she fuckin' died weren't much left that belonged to anybody. Don't know where the hell it went or if there just weren't much a shit between my parents, but I don't remember there bein' hardly a damn thing in that house last time we left it."

Carol looked at him, pausing in her petting of the blankets she had stacked in her lap.

"I'm sorry, Daryl," she said.

"Hell," he said. "Ain't nothin' but a damn thing, right?"

"If it bothers you, we don't have to talk about the baby things," Carol said.

Daryl realized, looking at her face, that no matter how damn much remember his shitty childhood might bother him, the thought of depriving her of even one damn minute of the joy she seemed to get out of this shit bothered him more.

Daryl plastered a smile on his face.

"Don't be stupid," he said. "This is my damn kid we talkin' 'bout…an' I want the little fucker to have all the damn blankets an' shit it can use."

Carol smiled at him a little and nodded, keeping her lips tight. She was quiet for a minute and he recognized that she was obviously a little emotional over the shit.

"Miss Jo wants me to tell her as soon as we find out what it is," Carol said. "She said she's making something for the baby."

"What'cha mean? It's a boy," Daryl said. "Always fuckin' boys…that's how ya know the damn thing's a Dixon." He teased.

Carol looked at him, narrowing her eyes and making her fake annoyed face.

"Are you questioning the paternity of my baby?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Ya better be damn glad I know what the fuck that word means or I mighta fucked that up," he responded. "No, I'm just tellin' ya that I know it's a boy."

"We'll know in two weeks," Carol said. "I have an ultrasound appointment and the doctor's going to see if she can tell then."

Daryl tipped his head to the side.

"Two damn weeks, huh? Then ya gon' finally believe me?" He said.

Carol smiled.

"Two weeks…and then we'll see," Carol said. "Do you really think it's a boy or are you just teasing?"

Daryl shrugged a little.

"I mean…I honestly don't know no one in our damn family…not what I can remember at least…that ever had no kid that weren't a boy," Daryl said. "So I reckon I do think it's gonna be a boy. Why? Ya think it's a girl?"

Now it was Carol's turn to shrug.

"I don't know, Daryl," she said. "I really don't know what I think. It doesn't matter to me, though. I'd be just as happy with a boy as I would be with a girl. I just want the baby to be healthy."

"Every fuckin' parent says that," Daryl said. "It's dumb too. That's a fuckin' given. Who you know that's gonna say they don't care if their kid ain't healthy?"

Carol smiled at him, but it wasn't a totally sincere smile. He could see, again, that she was trying not to cry. She hugged herself a moment, sitting there, and Daryl wondered if she was going to keep it under control or if he'd do better to go ahead and start making his way across the floor.

When her eyes started to dart around, though, and he noticed her rock just a little, he decided he might as well get over there and get in the ring. Daryl crawled across the floor and sat next to her, pulling her against him.

"Go ahead," he said. "Get it the fuck out…gotta come out some damn time or another."

As soon as he gave her the permission, Carol writhed around and buried her face in his chest, sobbing. He rubbed her back until she had control of it, but she didn't move.

"I really mean it, Daryl," Carol said. "I really mean that the only thing I want is to know that the baby is going to be OK…"

"Hush now," Daryl said, rocking her a little against him, despite their odd position on the floor. He felt like an ass for a moment. He hadn't thought about the shit that she'd been through with Ed and a kid…though suddenly he was remembering it and that coupled with this shit with Ed probably wasn't making his comment any damn bit better. "I ain't meant ya was stupid," Daryl said. "I was just joshin' ya. Baby's gonna be just fine…it's a Dixon…gonna be healthy as a fuckin' horse. Ya doc said it was all good, right? Just gotta wait this shit out, that's all."

Carol sat up a moment later, swiping at her face. Her eyes looked swollen and red and Daryl could see she was exhausted from the events of the day.

"Let's put all this back in ya box," Daryl said. "Ya can play with it some more tomorrow. I think ya need ta go ta bed. I'll lay with ya."

Carol shook her head.

"We can't," she said, still shaking her head. "We can't do that, Daryl. It's too soon."

Daryl shook his head this time.

"Put'cha stuff in ya box. I ain't gonna stay the night and I ain't gonna take nothin' off or touch ya or nothin' except if ya want me to," Daryl said. "We gon' do this the right way, just like ya wanta do it. I'm just gonna lay with ya 'til ya fall asleep an' then I'm gonna let myself out. I promise."

Carol looked like she was considering it and she did move to put the things in the box finally. After that, she got up and went to the bedroom and Daryl stayed outside the bedroom door, like a kid, until she called him in and told him she was ready for bed.

When Daryl walked in, Carol was already in the bed, covers pulled over her. He sighed and walked over, lying down next to her.

"Can I put my arm over ya at least?" He asked.

"Yeah," Carol said.

Daryl put his arm around her and held her. She wished him goodnight and told him she loved him in a soft voice that let him know that she was already working on going to sleep. He repeated it back to her and lie there, trailing his fingers up and down her arm, until he heard her breathing even out.

When he was sure that she was as deeply asleep as she was going to get, Daryl got up and cut the lights off in the bedroom. He stopped long enough to set her alarm clock, figuring she probably had work at Michonne's in the morning since it was a workday. If she didn't, he reasoned she could turn the alarm off and go back to sleep, but at least she wouldn't miss work and be upset about it…not that he really thought Michonne would be too pissed off about it.

Daryl left the bedroom door cracked on his way out of the room and stopped by the side door to let Lincoln out into the yard to do his business. While he was waiting on the dog, he saw Axel pull into the driveway in his car and Andrea opened the car door.

Daryl hated feeling like a peeper as he stood there in the doorway, but there really wasn't much else to look at out there. He watched as Andrea, illuminated by the interior lights of the car that were triggered by her open door, leaned over and kissed Axel before she got out and closed the door, pulling her jacket closed around her and waving over her shoulder at Axel as she headed up to the carport to go in the door.

Daryl let Lincoln back in and closed the side door, locking it. He turned, headed toward the kitchen to get the dog a treat just as Andrea came into the kitchen from the other door.

"Out late," Daryl said.

"Got caught up, Dad," Andrea said with a smile. "Where's Carol?"

"Asleep," Daryl said. "She was pretty shook up over this whole Ed thing."

Andrea nodded.

"Can't say as I blame her," Andrea said.

"You ain't shook up?" Daryl asked.

Andrea made a face and shook her head.

"Not really. I mean I can answer their questions…that's about all I've got," she said. "I don't even know what the hell they expect me to know or to say, you know? I'll just have to see what comes."

Daryl nodded his head a little.

"Have a beer with me?" Andrea asked, going to the fridge and getting a beer out.

Daryl shook his head.

"I'll take a glass a' tea," he said. "Gotta drive back to Hershel's an' the last damn thing I need is some shit ta happen an' Rick Grimes or some damn body think my ass was drinkin' an' drivin'."

"Have a seat on the couch," Andrea said. "I'll bring you a glass."

Daryl didn't argue. He walked over to the couch and took a seat. A few minutes later Andrea came in with her beer and a glass which she passed to him. She sat on the couch and pulled her shoes off, slipping them on top of the couch so she didn't have to keep an eye on them. She swung around, propping her feet in Daryl's lap as he leaned back against the back of the couch.

"Get'cha stinkin' ass feet offa me," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled.

"They're just feet," Andrea said, making no effort to move them in the slightest. Luckily, for Daryl, he didn't have any real problem with feet and just liked to give the blonde a hard damn time about anything he could.

"So tell me 'bout'cha fuckin' boyfriend," Daryl said. "What the fuck ya doin' with that loser?"

Andrea kicked at him, trying to pinch his stomach with her toes. He pushed her foot away.

"Stop tryin' ta get at me with ya nasty ass monkey toes," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled and then sighed, stretching back against the arm of the chair behind her back and then sitting up to take a drink of her beer.

"What can I say?" She asked. "I like Axel. I'm not sure that I like, like Axel, but I like him."

"Well that made a whole lotta fuckin' sense," Daryl said.

Andrea chuckled again.

"I like Axel as a friend," Andrea said. "He would like there to be more…and I'm thinking about that. I'm not saying there will be and I'm not saying there won't be."

"So ya stringin' his ass along?" Daryl asked.

Andrea took a swig of beer and shook her head, flexing her toes at Daryl again and he pushed her foot away.

"Is it stringing him along if I'm honest with him?" Andrea asked. "If I tell him that I'm not sure what I want but that right now I want to be friends with him…and I'm not saying never ever, but I'm not saying yes to the future either? Is that stringing along?"

Daryl thought about it.

"I reckon not," Daryl said. "Hell if he knows what he's gettin' then I don't suppose he can be too sore when that's what the hell he gets."

Andrea nodded her head.

"Ya reckon ya can do me a favor?" Daryl asked.

"What?" Andrea asked.

Daryl bit at his thumb and looked at her.

"Keep an eye out for Carol? 'Specially tonight? She's shook up 'bout this Ed shit an' I hate fuckin' leavin' but I promised her I weren't gonna stay on account a' this whole take it slow deal she's got goin' on…" Daryl said.

Andrea nodded at him.

"Sure," she said, smiling. "Of course I'll keep an eye on her. I might even surprise her with a slumber party. That mattress is a hell of a lot more comfortable than mine anyway."

"Ya been sleepin' in my bed?" Daryl asked.

Andrea shrugged.

"Just sometimes," she said. "Friends keep each other company when nights are hard."

Daryl wasn't sure how to respond, so he just nodded his head. He supposed that Carol might have had a couple of rocky nights during the time that he was taking a mental vacation from everything and trying to get his head under control…if that was ever even possible.

Daryl sighed and pushed Andrea's feet out of his lap.

"Reckon I oughta get fuckin' goin'," Daryl said. "Gotta get my ass up for work in the mornin' an' that damn rooster a' Hershel's is gotta be fuckin' blind 'cause the damn bird don't know when the hell the sun comes up."

Andrea snickered.

"Lock up behind me?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah," Andrea said. "When you coming back for good?"

Daryl didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know when he was coming back for good so he certainly couldn't tell Andrea.

"When Carol an' me know each other good enough, I reckon," Daryl said. "When the fuck ya movin' out?"

Andrea snickered a little.

"When you and Carol throw my ass out, I suppose," Andrea said.

Daryl chuckled and walked into the kitchen, putting his glass in the sink before he headed toward the door. He stopped and put his shoes on, rubbing Lincoln behind the ears before he stood up to leave.

"Reckon we fuckin' stuck with ya ass, then," Daryl said.

Andrea smiled and nodded a little.

"Lock the fuckin' door," Daryl said. "An' remember ta watch out for Carol."

"Get out of here, asshole," Andrea said. She got up then and crossed the space toward the door, pushing Lincoln back as Daryl slipped out into the night. He stood just outside the door until he heard the lock click into place and then he made his way down the driveway to get in his truck.

Daryl sat in the truck for a moment and watched as one by one the lights that were on went off. He saw the light that went to Andrea's room flick on and he figured that she'd probably change before going to check on Carol.

Daryl sighed and cranked the truck, driving back towards Hershel's farm for the night.


	101. Chapter 101

**AN: Here's another little chapter for everyone. We get a little glimpse into what Carol's going through here. It's a little heavy.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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To say that Carol was distracted by all that was happening would have been a grave understatement. Michonne finally sent her home when, the following day, she almost caused an accidental fire in the break room and then proceeded to schedule two of Michonne's clients at the same time and subsequently forgot to inform the lawyer of either of the appointments.

Carol was sorry that she was being sent home, but she was grateful for the chance to be out of the office. She knew that she wasn't exactly functioning on all systems go at the time and the fact that Michonne wasn't angry with her, but was, instead sympathetic was also a relief.

In itself the situation with Daryl would have had Carol distracted. She wasn't sure what to do now that she'd set her plan into motion to spend more time with Daryl and make sure that they knew each other well enough to keep from falling into their own ways when they finally did come back together. She still thought the idea was a good one, in theory at least, but she wasn't really sure what to do with it in practice.

She knew that she loved Daryl and she didn't doubt that he loved her. There was no shortage of love between them and that hadn't been the cause of any of their problems thus far…at least not in her opinion.

In her opinion their problems thus far had been caused by problems in communication, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that this wasn't the fault of either of them exclusively. Daryl hadn't been raised to be stellar at communication. One look at Merle could tell anyone that.

He wasn't used to talking about his feelings, thoughts, and opinions on anything. Carol knew that it wasn't that Daryl didn't have feelings and opinions, and it wasn't that he wasn't intelligent enough to contribute to any given situation, but it seemed to be more that he'd gone for so long thinking that they didn't matter. What he felt or thought was going to be ignored anyway. It was inconsequential and therefore he might as well not even bother worrying about processing his own thoughts on things, less likely worry about expressing them.

Carol understood this too. With Ed her feelings hadn't been validated very regularly either. He'd treated her as though she were too stupid to have thoughts and opinions, and anything she felt was simply wrong unless everything matched up entirely with his own way of seeing things. Therefore, it had simply been easier to let everything go according to his whims and hide her own feelings, hopefully avoiding punishment as well.

So now that she was actually considering, carefully, what it was that had caused her and Daryl to have trouble in the past, she was realizing that neither of them were to blame for their problems and both of them were to blame…and communication, or rather lack thereof, was at the very core of it all.

She didn't know, then, how to remedy the situation entirely. They were talking now…but part of her felt like she had to hold back and she had to try to mold what she said to keep upsetting Daryl. Part of her also told her that he was trying to mold what he said to placate her. She supposed that this was maybe what was supposed to happen in any relationship, but she wasn't truly positive. How were they supposed to know how much holding back was enough and how much would just eventually blow up in their faces?

And she wanted him back…and he wanted to be back. The night before had not been an easy one. She'd tossed and she'd turned most of the night with all the awful images and thoughts that her brain thought it was entertaining to throw to her. It showed her things that her waking mind wouldn't even dare to remember now and she was glad that it wouldn't. Andrea had been there, like the good friend that she was, and she'd woken up right along with Carol when the nightmares came, bringing her water and talking to her, trying to soothe her back to sleep with all the happy thoughts that Andrea could muster in the middle of the night…but it wasn't like having Daryl there.

So thinking on the topic had almost exhausted Carol and made her fear that they weren't ever going to find a solution. She'd wait too long or she wouldn't wait long enough…or there just wasn't any way to make it work and one day it would all come crashing down. And all of it, every last bit of it, had made her afraid that they could both love each other so much and yet never be able to be happy together because they didn't know how to be happy.

If the situation with Daryl wouldn't have been enough to make her feel like she was going crazy, then there was the whole thing with Ed. Carol tried to pretend she wasn't worried about it, but the fact that was that it was almost eating her alive.

She was on the verge of tears almost since the second she'd ripped open the envelope and all of it had come crashing down around her. In fact, she'd been close to tears so much that she'd only controlled them with her pinching technique and now she was forced to wear long sleeved shirts whether she wanted to or not because she'd woken up with the underside of both her arms and several spots on various other places of her body where she'd pinched until they were almost black.

She didn't want anyone to know that she was as upset as she was about Ed, she didn't want to be ridiculed by anyone for the crying that she couldn't seem to get under control, and she certainly didn't want anyone to know about the bruises for fear of what they might say about that.

The letter, though, when she'd opened it, had opened up every wound inside that she'd thought had finally scarred over. It was, first and foremost, concrete evidence that Ed was fighting the court's ruling on his stay in prison. It was proof that Ed was still there…not gone like she liked to imagine him being from time to time. He was alive and well and he could very well return like a goblin come crawling out of her nightmares.

It also meant that she was going to have to face him. She'd have to see him sitting there, in that court room, and even if he couldn't speak to her or touch her…even if she had her very own guard…nothing could protect her from knowing that he was looking at her and knowing all the things that he was thinking and imagining. Probably all the things that he wanted to do to her…things she knew he would try to do if the court system failed her and he walked free.

Her mind reeled about the fact that he might walk free. He might show up somewhere…at her work or at her home or very likely hidden in the shadows somewhere outside one of the places…and then he'd finish what he started and he'd kill her like he'd always threatened to do. Or worse…

Carol worried that it could be so much worse. He could leave her alive…disfigure her or something horrifying and leave her something that Daryl couldn't love…that no man could love. And even more horrifying than that…the most horrifying thing of all to her at the moment…was that he could leave her alive and kill the baby.

And all of these were things she didn't want to talk about with others. They were fears that she didn't want to voice out loud because she could already hear the responses in her head that others would give her. Each response building on the other like kids rolling a snowball of possibilities…except they meant so much less to everyone else than they meant to her and no one that told her these things really ever seemed to realize that they weren't helping.

"He won't get out of prison…the court won't let him out. If he does get out of prison he won't get near you. We won't let him get near you. We won't let him hurt you or the baby. The baby will be fine. Even if something happened, he'd go back to prison. He'd go back for longer…he'd be gone. The baby would be just fine. Even if the baby wasn't fine you could have others…you could always try again."

Their intentions were good, and so Carol didn't fault them for not knowing what to say. There wasn't anything to say that could make it better, so it wasn't surprising that they were all at a loss for what they should offer her in the way of comfort.

And then her mind reminded him that Ed only had five years to serve. That was it. If this entire case fell through and he had to finish out his sentence, Carol wasn't really free from him. He had five years and then he'd get out…his debt would paid…and he'd be a free man. Although Carol hoped that in five years he would forget about her and move on…that he'd get out of prison and pick up and try to make a new life elsewhere, where no one knew him and no one knew the kind of man that he'd been…she feared he wouldn't forget. And then she'd be just where she was now except for the fact that she'd be five years into the future.

So to say that she was distracted by all of this? That would have been the understatement of the year.

When Carol got home from Michonne's she tried to keep herself busy. She hoped that if she was busy with things she could somehow keep from dwelling on all the problems she felt she had at the moment. She put herself to work in the kitchen, soaking and hand washing the blankets that Miss Jo had given her, determined to hang them on the line in the backyard to dry.

The activity was helping a little, though it wasn't taking her mind entirely off of everything. It was at least giving her something to do, though, as she carefully examined them and tried to delicately scrub out the stains. Some of them were stains from when the blankets and things had belonged to the Greene girls, but others were simply the spots that came from age and from being poorly stored in an attic. Carol tried, though, to focus all the attention she had on cleaning the delicate little things and telling herself over and over that things were going to be fine and she could imagine wrapping her own child in the delicately made items.

"What are you doing?" Andrea asked, leaning over Carol.

Carol nearly jumped through the roof and she threw the wet blanket in her hand at Andrea almost brought to tears just from the fear and the sudden stopping of her heart. She'd been so absorbed in her thoughts and all that was going on in her mind that she had completely failed to notice Andrea arrive at the house or let herself in the door.

Carol had obviously surprised Andrea as well because Andrea backed away from her so fast, her face panic stricken, that she almost tripped over Lincoln who yelped and ran off.

"Jesus, Carol! What's wrong?" Andrea asked, grabbing at her own chest to mirror Carol's actions.

"You snuck up on me!" Carol yelled at Andrea. "You damn near gave me a heart attack!"

Both of them were calming down a little now.

"Carol, I hardly snuck up on you," Andrea said. "I've never been accused of being quiet and I even got myself a snack and fixed it."

Andrea pointed to the counter and Carol realized how really absorbed she was by her thoughts at the moment. She picked the wet blanket up off the floor that she'd flung at Andrea in some kind of desperate need to react in some way to the shock that had run through her. She tossed the blanket back in the sink with the others that were soaking and brought her hand to her forehead.

She felt the tears welling up again and reached her other hand to pinch under her left arm, disguising it by trying to look like she was wrapping her arm around herself.

Andrea stepped forward then and Carol opened her eyes and dropped both her arms when Andrea clasped her shoulders, searching her face.

"What's wrong?" Andrea asked. "I swear! I didn't mean to scare you! You got me good too if you want to know the truth. I didn't expect you to turn around and come at me like I was a chainsaw murdered."

Carol snickered a little and wrapped her arms around Andrea.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've just got so much on my mind. I guess I wasn't even really here and then you talked and I wasn't expecting you to be here."

Andrea pushed her away.

"It's fine…really. Is it something I can help you with?" Andrea asked.

Carol shook her head and sighed.

"It's Ed, Andrea…It's Daryl and this thing with Daryl…and it's Ed…it always comes back to Ed," Carol said. She felt herself getting angry for a moment. "I hate that it always comes back to Ed."

Andrea nodded her head a little and took a deep breath.

"What's wrong with you and Daryl?" Andrea asked. "Nothing happened, did it? Everything was fine last night."

"That's the thing," Carol said. "Everything was great last night…and it's been fine. I don't know how to tell when it's been long enough…I don't know how to tell when we've gotten to know each other well enough…when he's not going to run away again. Andrea there is so much going on right now…and on the one hand I want Daryl here and I want him to be with me…but on the other I feel like I need to see how we're going to handle some of this…apart and together…before I feel like I'm really going to know if we're going to be able to do this whole relationship thing long term."

Carol looked at Andrea like she might have all the answers, but it was obvious her friend didn't. Andrea was standing in front of her, her arms folded across her chest, obviously focused on her words, but the concerned look on her forehead told Carol that Andrea didn't know how to answer all the questions any better than she did.

"Then don't worry about it," Andrea said. "So you don't let him move back in…that's fine. I think that's smart. You'll know when you feel like it's the right time. The rest of the time just do what feels right. If you want to spend time with him, then spend time with him! If you want to cook for him, invite him over to eat! If you want to kiss him and cuddle with him, then by all means, do it! There's not one single playbook for dating, Carol. It has to work for everyone the way it's going to work out. Sometimes it doesn't work out, and sometimes it does."

Carol chuckled halfheartedly.

"And if it doesn't?" Carol asked.

Andrea shrugged.

"Then it doesn't…and sometimes it gets caught in some kind of damn halfway point where you don't even know what the hell is happening…then you end up stuck in limbo with some drunk asshole who thinks it's fun to spend his evenings flinging three year old peanuts at you," Andrea said with a smile.

Carol sighed. She couldn't explain, at the moment, how glad she was that Andrea had brought up Merle, or that she'd brought up anything really. Just for a moment the idea of thinking about or talking about someone else's life made Carol almost feel less exhausted than she had been.

Carol shook her head.

"Keep me company while I'm washing?" Carol asked, turning back to the blankets in the sink. "Please? I'll help you with your relationship woes…"

Andrea chuckled and crossed the kitchen, coming back a moment later to lean near the sink with her drink and the chips she had as a snack.

"I don't have woes exactly," Andrea said. "As much as I have a great big series of what the fuck is happenings going on."

Carol smiled at her.

"So what's going on?" Carol asked.

"Eh…well…there's Axel," Andrea said. "And then there's Merle."

"And we've decided that Merle is out, right?" Carol asked.

"You know that I care about him," Andrea said.

"And Axel?" Carol asked.

Andrea sighed.

"I know that I'm going to hate myself for saying this, Carol, but Axel's just too nice. He's the nicest guy I've ever known in my life. He's so nice that he asks permission to hold my hand or kiss me…and I really do like him. I mean I like being around him and if I were going to just hang out with some dude for the rest of my life like he was some kind of buddy, then it would be Axel because he's just that damn nice. But there are absolutely no sparks there," Andrea said.

Carol frowned.

"None at all? Not even teeny tiny ones you could blow on?" Carol asked.

Andrea chuckled and shook her head.

"I have more sparks with you," Andrea said.

Carol frowned again.

"That's bad," Carol said.

"Terrible," Andrea responded. "Plus he's like you in male form…no offense. I mean he wants a family and he wants like eight hundred kids and a wife in a 1950s apron or some shit like that. His fantasy family would have me dripping in screaming children and welcome home honeys. I'm not that woman, Carol. I don't want to be that woman…and I think if she's out there then Axel really does deserve to find her…but it's not me. The thought of it doesn't make me want to hop into bed with him either. In fact, the thought of it makes me want to make an appointment to get my tubes tied tomorrow or something like that."

"And what does Axel say?" Carol asked. "What have you told him?"

Andrea shrugged slightly, leaning on her elbows by the sink.

"I mean I told him that I want to be his friend…and I told him things were complicated with me and with my life. He says he's fine with that. He says he's not in a hurry…that he's waited this long in his life and he's not against being friends with me while I get things sorted out," Andrea said.

"And then there's Merle?" Carol asked.

"And then there's Merle," Andrea said. "Stupid bastard. I swear that there are times I wish I'd never even met his sorry ass. If I didn't know him, I wouldn't give a shit about him and maybe I'd learn to love the idea of being some kind of vanilla flavored housewife. No offense…"

"None taken," Carol said. "I have no intention of being vanilla flavored if I can help it."

Andrea smirked.

"So yeah…so Merle's been back hanging up at the Water Hole every damn night and I feel like he's popping up here and there and I never know when to expect him. He's always harassing me…wanting to know what I'm doing with Axel…telling me I can't be serious about him," Andrea said.

"Which you're not," Carol said. "And Merle's jealous. It's as plain as the nose on his face. It's just like it was clear that he cared about you from the beginning."

"So why can't he quit being a dick and just admit it?" Andrea asked.

Carol sighed, relieved to focusing on Andrea's problems for a while. They were different than hers, and the break was nice for her.

"If Merle were to admit that he cared about you, would you want him back?" Carol asked.

Andrea looked hesitant to respond.

"And I mean you get the whole Merle package, after all…the whole big ball of asshole that he is. Would you want him back?" Carol asked.

Andrea chuckled. She nodded her head slightly.

"I never cared that Merle was an asshole," Andrea said. "Honestly? It's part of what I liked about him…however sick that sounds. It's part of what made me care about Merle. I think if he could admit that he cared about me…maybe agreed to try and show it once in a while…you know, nothing too spectacular…then yes, I would want him back."

Carol faked a whine at her friend.

"But Axel's so nice…" she said. "And being pregnant isn't all that bad…you could do it…we could get you really good drugs or something and you'd probably never even notice that you had like four hundred kids running around."

Andrea chuckled.

"That'd be the way to go, wouldn't it?" Andrea said.

Carol sighed.

"I think Merle realizes he misses you," Carol said. "The ball could be in your court…if it's what you want."

"Yeah…" Andrea said. "But I'm not begging Merle…that's the thing. I'm hard headed enough that I'd rather spend my life alone than beg Merle to be even remotely nice to me."

"Maybe he'll come around on his own," Carol offered, knowing that it really meant nothing.

Andrea chuckled and stood up from her position.

"And maybe frogs will grow wings so they don't bump their asses when they hop," she said. "We could think about what might happen all damn day long, but right now all we've got is what the hell is right in front of us."

Andrea finished her glass of tea in one swallow and rolled the chip bag up that she hadn't eaten out of, tossing it to the side on the counter.

"And right now I've got a shower in front of me because I smell like deep fried disgusting and I've got a date with Axel. We're going out to dinner and then maybe I'll make him paint my toenails," Andrea said with a laugh.

Carol shook her head at her and watched as Andrea left the glass and headed toward the back of the house to get her clean clothes.

"All we've got is what's right the hell in front of us," Carol said to herself, going back to finishing up the blankets so she could get them hung out to dry overnight.


	102. Chapter 102

**AN: OK, so this was a little bit of a heavy chapter to write for me. I did it, though. Please excuse the probable multitude of grammatical mistakes, but once it was done, it needed to be done. **

**As always, I'm not a professional in all the topics that I write about, so I always ask for some suspension of disbelief under the pretext that this is merely a story written to provide entertainment. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter (or perhaps I guess I should say that I hope it's at least decently written, since it is a heavy chapter and I'm not sure how much you can "enjoy" it). Let me know what you think! **

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Michonne sat in the back of the courtroom, a new position for her, and Daryl sat on the other side, straight back against the wall. He'd come in under the guise of being support for Andrea and she'd come in as support for Carol.

She didn't know if it was necessary or if it was of any consequence at all, but Carol felt better if she and Daryl didn't come in together. No one was quite sure how the thing was going to play out and Michonne wasn't even sure of who was dealing the cards right now.

Normally she felt like this was her domain, and she had connections with nearly everyone, but she wasn't sure what Blake knew, what he was going to do, or who he had connections with that might trump hers. She was lying about as low as she could right this minute until she had a better feel for the situation.

So it had been agreed that Daryl would come today, the first day they'd have any access at all to the court drama and the only day that Andrea was scheduled to be there. The rest of the days he'd wait outside as a type of moral support for Carol and Michonne would come in with her in hopes of, at the very least, figuring out what was happening so that she could prepare Carol for what might be coming.

Michonne sat beside Carol and she kept the woman's hand clasped in hers. Carol was keeping it under control, but Michonne knew that it was only barely. She was thinking about asking a doctor friend of hers if there was any kind of sedative that might be safe for Carol to take for a couple of days to get some rest because all the tension and stress certainly wasn't good for her and the dark circles under her eyes did more to confirm that she wasn't sleeping than even Andrea's flat out declarations that neither of them were resting from Carol's anxiety.

Across the courtroom, in the back, Daryl sat and fidgeted against the back wall. He was so wound up that Michonne kept watching him out of the corner of her eye and feeling like she did whenever she took her girls into public. She wished she'd thought to bring some candy or a toy or something to distract him with.

She knew that he was nervous. He was almost as torn up about this whole thing as Carol was. The man could very truly use some sedatives himself. He was hanging in there, though, and he was being supportive enough for the moment that Michonne was even considering forgiving him entirely for the month he'd decided to take after his brother and be a giant walking dick…disappearing almost entirely.

Andrea sat a few rows ahead of Daryl, her elbows on the benches in front of her, leaning onto her hands like she was bored with the whole thing before they'd ever begun. Michonne could understand that too. Andrea was worried about Carol and she was worried about Ed getting out of prison, but she had no idea, like the rest of them, exactly how she fit into the puzzle.

And that's what the whole damn thing was. It was like a puzzle…only today they were probably going to get a glance at what the finished picture was supposed to look like if Blake got all the damn pieces to go where he wanted them.

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Daryl was a wreck. He could barely keep his head together and he had chewed on his fingers until they were actually bleeding. He blotted some of the blood on his pants and tried to make sure he didn't bring his fingers absentmindedly back to his mouth.

He hated fucking court rooms to begin with. Nothing good in his whole damn life had ever come out of one. Absolutely nothing. Now he was in one and hoping that this was the first damn time the justice system didn't prove to be full of fucking assholes.

He knew that Carol was freaking out and she didn't look good. She looked worse than she looked most of the mornings that she'd spent lying on the bathroom floor…except this wasn't the baby's fault. This was the fat asshole's fault who was sitting in the front of the court room, almost directly in front of Daryl. Just looking at the back of his fucking fat head made Daryl want to get up, walk directly to the front and simply beat the shit out of him right there in front of his lawyer, God, and any other damn person that wanted to watch.

Daryl was hot and he was uncomfortable. As the time ticked on he didn't know if they'd been in there for six hours or if it had only been a couple and it just seemed like they were stuck in some kind of time warp.

He kept glancing in Michonne and Carol's direction. Michonne made eye contact with him from time to time, but Carol was more or less keeping her eyes straight ahead. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking about, but he wished he knew how the hell to take it all away.

Andrea took the stand finally, but Daryl couldn't focus on what the hell was happening. He was listening to the questions and he listened to Andrea answer them, but he didn't know what the fuck any of them had to do with shit.

Andrea didn't sound like she was too damn happy up there either and Daryl knew she was trying to hold it together but she'd been kind of shitting bricks about the fact she might say or do something that was going to be even the slightest bit beneficial to Ed Peletier…and let's face it…no one wanted to do anything that might get that fucker out of prison.

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Andrea almost felt like she was suffering from the "cold sweats" as she'd heard people call it before. She'd sat up there, in front of the court, and immediately become more petrified of just being there than anything in her entire life. She'd felt like she could have faced nearly anything with more confidence, but as soon as she'd taken the oath and they'd started asking her questions, all her confidence had flown right out the window.

She'd tried not to look at a single damn thing in the room. She'd only gotten through the questions by looking directly at the microphone pole on the stand in front of her and smashing her hands between her knees so they'd stop shaking.

She didn't even know why she was so nervous, except when she'd sat down she'd glanced around at everyone. Everyone in the room looked so serious, so full of expectation. It was like everything she had to say today would be the most important thing she ever said. Daryl looked like he was about to lay an egg, Michonne's eyebrows were so furrowed that you could have hidden treasure between them, Carol looked like she might fall out in the floor at any moment…and those were just the people she knew in the back.

She knew a few other faces in the courtroom and her brain, in its rush to drown her in all the negative thoughts that she absolutely didn't need, had told her that everyone one of them knew her too…or they knew of her. They knew the image of her that had been plastered all over Sweet Junction and every single surrounding town since she was fifteen years old. Now she was on a stand trying to save her best friend from the smug looking bastard that was sitting behind a table a few feet away from her, and she was afraid it was all going to come back and bite her in the ass somehow.

She'd listened to their questions, and felt like an idiot from time to time. Philip Blake was not the man that he'd been at the Watering Hole and she didn't even half understand what he was asking half the time. She would have needed a dictionary and a good thirty minute start on him to even begin to comprehend some of the things he asked.

And the when she asked for clarification…in a desperate attempt not to put her foot in her mouth because of her own ignorance…he'd reworded the questions in such a way and spoke to her in such a way that she'd felt like she was a toddler or something who couldn't understand something as simple as why they couldn't have twenty more cookies before dinner.

She'd done her best, though, and she'd answered all the questions, despite the fact that she'd really thought she might vomit once or twice. When they'd finally released her, and her heart stopped pounding like it had been…waiting to find out if she'd been caught in some kind of legal bear trap…Andrea had gotten to her feet and mentally scolded her knees for feeling shaky and almost feeling like they belonged to someone else.

She'd walked back down the center aisle of the courtroom and sunk into the bench, hoping that she'd done alright. She glanced in Michonne's direction for confirmation, but Michonne wasn't looking at her. She was looking at the front of the room with her eyes locked in Philip Blake's direction and a deep scowl on her face.

Michonne wasn't handing out any kind of smiles and reassurance today, that was for sure. Andrea could only hope that she was offering some kind of comfort to Carol because Andrea knew that if she was feeling as freaked out by the whole thing as she was, Carol was probably about ready to fall out in the floor.

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Carol very nearly tripped on her way to the front. She'd tried to blame it on the carpet, even looking behind her a moment at the carpet as though she were looking for what tripped her, but she knew it was just her step faltering. She'd barely made it out of her seat and if it hadn't been for Michonne heaving her up a little, she might not have made it to her feet.

She'd glanced in Daryl's direction, but he was leaning back against the wall, his eyes focused on something…or maybe on nothing…he wasn't looking at her though. Andrea wasn't looking at her either. She had her elbows on the bench in front of her and her head was buried in her hands with her fingers tangled in her hair.

Carol didn't mean to look in Ed's direction, but she did and it had matched almost perfectly with the moment she damn near busted her ass coming down the little walkway. She'd kept going, though, and made it to the stand.

She would pinch the hell out of herself if she had to, but she wasn't going to cry on the stand. That's what she'd told herself. She wasn't going to let Ed Peletier see her cry…not anymore. He'd seen enough of her tears.

But if she'd thought this entire thing would be easy…if even for a moment she'd entertained in her mind that she was going to be the victim and Ed was going to be the bad guy in this scenario…she realized all too quickly that she was wrong.

The questions rolled out of Philip Blake's mouth in a language that was far too complicated. Just the words alone made her head spin and she lost her will not to cry. Even tearing at her own flesh wasn't going to keep her from crying. Having to repeatedly ask for clarification and repetition was bad enough. It would have brought tears to her eyes on its own.

But then when she heard the simplified questions…heard him reforming her answers…heard the words that he added to what she said…some of which she protested but felt like she was shot down on…that's when she really felt like she'd fall apart.

She felt, suddenly and with desperation, that she was losing this whole thing. She gave answers, but even as she gave them he seemed to twist them and to change them. Right before her eyes he seemed to be painting a picture of her and Ed and their life that had never been there before. It was a picture that was so wrong…so different…and yet she couldn't even figure out which words were making it wrong. It was like she'd been sucked down the rabbit hole or something. Nothing made sense, but she couldn't hold onto anything long enough to figure out why it didn't make sense or what to do about it.

He'd asked so much she wasn't prepared for…things she wouldn't have even thought were important. And the worst of it all was that she knew that he wasn't done. She had two more dates…Andrea's was over. It was done with. The band aid had been yanked off and for better or for worse, Andrea was done with this. Carol had two more days of it to go, though, and she was already failing.

And when the other lawyer…the fat man she didn't know that was representing the state in all of this…had asked his questions she'd almost wanted to scream at him. He'd been so nonchalant. He'd passed things around, asked her to verify things, spoken softly and simply…but she didn't feel like he'd matched Philip Blake. She didn't even feel like he cared and she'd wanted to scream at him that this was her life they were talking about. This was her life and her baby's life and he wasn't even trying to make sure that she got out of the stupid rabbit hole that she'd been pushed down by Philip Blake.

By the time she'd finished all of the questions she'd gotten up and felt her legs shaking. They were so weak that she thought she might have run a marathon without feeling so much like she could have simply fallen over on the ground. She returned down the aisle, trying not to look at anyone or anything, ashamed of the fact that she'd sobbed on the stand, ashamed of the fact that she was sobbing now, and positive that she had failed miserably at whatever kind of test this was.

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Daryl really wanted to come out of his seat when Carol had taken the stand. She'd damn near fallen on her way down there and not a single person had offered to help her. He didn't know if she tripped or what had actually happened, but when he'd saw her almost go down his heart had nearly stopped.

And then when she'd been on the stand he'd tried to focus extra hard on everything the fucking weasel of a lawyer was asking her, but mostly he'd been focused on her. He couldn't stand it when she'd broken down and he'd wanted to bust the damn lawyer in the jaw almost as bad as he wanted to punch Ed Peletier in the face.

Daryl didn't know much about the court system or cases like this. He wasn't well versed in that shit and he didn't know what all the questions meant or what the right answers were. It felt like it was all a big test or something they were taking and nobody had the fucking book to study before they got there.

What he did know, though, was that he didn't like the sound of the questions and he didn't like the lawyer's tone. It sounded to him like the guy was trying to prove that Ed Peletier was some kind of fucking saint. It was like he'd been some kind of victim for all those years that he'd been married to Carol. The man talked to Carol like she was on trial for murder instead of like she was just Carol…and she was sitting up there talking about the man who'd made her life a living hell.

The worst damn part of it was that there was nothing he could do. He had to sit his ass quietly in the back and watch Carol fall apart. He had to listen to a man that he didn't even fucking know from Adam talk to her like she wasn't any damn smarter than a two year old. He had to listen to him make it sound like everybody in that room ought to shake Ed's hand for having been married to Carol instead of taking him out in the parking lot and stoning his fat ass to death like Daryl had figured would be good enough for him.

There wasn't a single damn thing that he could do because anything he might do would just make it worse. All the way around it was just going to make that shit worse. So he'd had to sit on his hands in the back of the room and watch the whole thing unfold.

By the time that they finished asking questions to Carol, Daryl felt exhausted for her. He wanted to go down there and help her back to her seat, if nothing else, but he couldn't even do that. No one helped her. Not a single soul offered to walk her back to her seat.

She'd come down the aisle looking nothing like the Carol that he knew for a moment. She looked destroyed and deflated and it made his blood boil. Michonne had at least gotten up, as Carol had come, and had taken her arm, guiding her into the row that they were sitting in, but that had been all that anyone had done…and maybe everyone's hands were tied like his…he didn't know…but he knew that if he ran the damn court system things would have gone a lot differently.

By the time it was time to go home, in fact, Daryl was pretty damn glad that the next two days he would spend sitting in the truck and waiting on Carol in the parking lot while Michonne came into the courtroom. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there if him being there did anything at all to help Carol, but he was thankful that he wasn't going to have to watch something like that again. He knew now that he couldn't help her at all. He couldn't do a thing to make this easier on her or make sure that things went how she needed them to go. He could only sit there and watch her torture, and he was grateful that he didn't have to do that for two more fucking days.

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Michonne could feel her blood pressure rising as the entire thing unfolded and it started to make sense in her mind. Perfect sense.

It wasn't that the case in itself made sense…no, that was something that she'd never be able to understand from a human perspective…but what Philip Blake was up to? What he was doing? She understood what the hell that was all about.

And what really pissed her off more than anything…what reminded her of why she hated the justice system even though she was tangled up in it…was the realization that sunk over her as she thought about all that unfolded in front of her and all that was likely going to unfold in the upcoming days. Ed Peletier would walk out of this. Not only would he walk out of this, but he'd probably walk out of it with sympathy from the fucking assholes around him.

She hadn't heard Blake's opening argument, and she wouldn't hear his closing argument, but she didn't need to hear them spoken in his nauseating voice for her to already know the gist of them.

Ed Peletier would be painted as a man that lived with a woman who, by all the antequated beliefs that we pride ourselves in having overcome but which haven't really been overcome at all, had lived with a woman who "drove him to his acts." By the time that Philip Blake had finished, he would damn near plea temporary insanity or something of the like for the man.

He'd paint Carol as the scarlet woman. The woman who had been unfaithful, perhaps…untrustworthy…a loose cannon at the very least. Ed, the poor doting husband, would have done anything to save his marriage. Except that of course, with a woman like that, there wasn't any saving it. She was out of control…everyone knew it. The town gossips carried his shame around in their pockets and threw it out at the feet of everyone like rose petals to welcome them to town.

The attacks on Carol, the ones that had been documented and the ones that Blake couldn't wash away as Carol crying out for attention and lying against Ed…the ones that were there beyond a shadow of a doubt. They'd be painted, very likely, as something that Ed did out of desperation…out of insanity even…driven to his madness and his actions by Carol's misbehaving.

Even as Michonne constructed in her mind the web of lies that Blake would make out of everything…what he would construct out of the truth…she wanted to puke at it. He was a clever man in the fact that he'd probably figured out how to make this all sound seamless and convincing, but he wasn't really clever at all. He was simply falling back on the time tested bullshit that people drank up like it was water in the dessert.

A man, after all, was no better than an animal. He had no control over his actions if he was driven to those actions by a woman. He couldn't control his impulses…couldn't act like a civilized creature…not if a woman was behind it. And for men like Philip Blake and all the over padded bastards that filled the room…there was always a woman behind it. She was always the guilty party.

Most of the men in that room had probably spent their lives in loveless, unhappy marriages caused by their own clinging to outdated mentalities, but they'd blamed every shitty moment of their existences on a woman. On their mothers…on their wives…it was all the fault of Eve, right? The downfall of man at the hands of a woman.

And Ed Peletier had been another helpless victim in the grand scheme of life. He'd done what he'd done, but not because he was an asshole with a thirst for beating his wife so that he could feel that he had some control over something living…no…that wasn't the case at all. He'd done it because she'd driven him to it and he'd been just another animal that had answered the call of nature.

Michonne wanted to spit on Philip Blake and she wanted to spit on every single man in that jury…and they were the majority…that would make sure that Ed Peletier walked free from this. And she knew, that they'd be the very same assholes that, when faced with a woman that would tell them the truth about themselves and what they perpetuated while simultaneously proclaiming that as a society we'd come so far, would say that the woman was simply a man hater.

Michonne had a splitting headache from her own anger at what was to come. By the time they left the courtroom and made it to the parking lot, it would have been hard to tell who, besides Carol, was in the worst condition of the group. None of them looked better for the wear and Michonne, herself, knew that she probably didn't either.

Michonne tried to hold it together, though. They all piled into her car and she started the drive back to Sweet Junction.

"What did you think?" Andrea asked when they were on the road for a bit.

Michonne didn't really want to answer that question. She was praying with every scrap of religious faith inside her that she was wrong and that Philip Blake wasn't just another scumbag who had probably driven his wife to cheating on him and then been bitter because she'd done it and now he got his rocks off by making sure that women paid for everything whenever he got the chance. She was praying that he wasn't like that…that she'd been dead wrong because she was on edge…and that Ed Peletier wouldn't walk out of this.

"It's hard to tell," she said finally.

"Did we do OK?" Andrea asked. "I mean I didn't know half of what he was asking me…and I was trying to think ahead…trying to figure out what was the right answer, but I wasn't sure…"

"You did fine," Michonne said. "You both did just fine."

They had done fine. They'd done the best that they could do in the situation. They'd told the truth. Really, though, it wasn't the truth that mattered. It was hardly ever the truth that mattered. What mattered was how the truth was twisted…how it was manipulated. Nothing in life was really about the truth, it was about how you were told to see the truth.

"Do ya think it looks good or bad?" Daryl asked from the backseat.

Michonne took a breath and wished she could mute her friends.

"I think it looks…" she paused. She didn't want to lie to any of them. They were her friends and she wasn't going to lie to them. At the same time she didn't want to say anything in front of Carol. Not when she'd make this trip two more times with her…not when she still had to take the stand. Lessen Carol's anxiety was what she wanted to do, not heighten it. "It's really too early to tell how it looks," Michonne finished.

They seemed satisfied with that, or at least as satisfied as any of them could get. Michonne knew how it would go from here. They'd finish up with the days that Carol had left to be there and then the waiting game would be put into progress. For the time being, until the case was done and closed, they'd all be waiting to hear anything and to know what had become of it. Then, eventually, they'd have a verdict and they'd know if Ed was going to go free…or when he was going to go free if what Michonne thought was correct.

There was no need in worrying more than they were going to do naturally, though, not until they had to. They'd figure out something when the time came, but for now there was no need to add to it, and Carol really didn't need any more stress than she already had.

Michonne dug her cell phone out of her pocket and fumbled around while she drove, thankful for nearly abandoned country roads and favors that could be called in whenever you needed them.

"I'm going to call a doctor friend of mine," Michonne said to Carol, glancing back at the road, her finger hovering over the send button on her phone. "I'm going to get you something so that you'll get a little rest, OK? There's no need to worry."

"I don't want anything," Carol said.

Michonne nodded her head.

"Don't worry…I promise I would never ask you to take anything that would hurt the baby or you in any way. That's why I'm calling a doctor. It would actually be better, I'm sure, for you and the baby if you would take it…just until the court thing is over and done with," Michonne reasoned.

"Maybe ya should take it," Daryl offered from the back seat, his hand coming over the seat and resting on Carol's shoulder.

"Can you do it for me?" Michonne asked.

Carol nodded.

"Sure…I guess so…I mean as long as it's OK," Carol said.

"It will be," Michonne said. "I'll call him now and we can pick it up on our way in…you can get some rest tonight and be good to go tomorrow."

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**AN: OK…so the court chapter was heavy and I'm going to go ahead and let you know that I'm taking the "bad author" way out and skipping over the rest of the court stuff. I'm doing this for a couple of reasons, actually. Reason #1 is it's heavy and that drags me down, especially since I write after work and I'm already tired…so heavy stuff is hard. Reason #2 is that I'm not a lawyer and I don't even watch a ton of law shows or anything…so the more details I try to give, the worse I'll probably mess it up. I'll let you fill all those in for yourself. **

**So yeah…we'll do a little bit of a "jump" type thing before the next chapter instead of detailing the rest of the court case, but I did want to give you at least a little feel for what it was like. I hope it wasn't too bad and you'll forgive me! **


	103. Chapter 103

**AN: OK, so now we're going lighter because I needed a break after the heavy chapter! **

**I'd just like to say thank you again to everyone for your comments and reviews. They mean so much to me! Sweet Junction went over 1,000 reviews today and I was amazed! I feel like I'm in the big time! LOL**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl knew that it was cheating in the planned separation that they had going on to stay at the house, but during the days of the trial he'd stayed anyway and no one had fought him on it. The first night he had stayed up with everyone in the living room. It had been something like a camp at his house since Tyreese had come over with Michonne's girls and Axel had come by to check on Andrea and brought his dog.

Carol had taken whatever it was that Michonne had gotten from her doctor friend and she'd basically curled up on Daryl's lap on the couch while they all sat around trying to talk about anything except what was on everyone's mind. By the time that Michonne and Tyreese left, having pushed the girls' bedtime to the point where there simply wasn't anymore giving room, Carol was asleep in Daryl's arms. He hadn't said anything to Andrea, he'd simply gathered Carol up and took her to bed, deciding that it wasn't cheating too bad as long as he drug the extra blanket off the couch into the room with him and slept on top of the cover next to her.

The other nights had gone somewhat similarly, though there had been some variation on the theme. Each night, though, Daryl had stayed and no one had protested.

Once the days in court were past them all, Michonne had been sure to tell them not to worry about things. There was no need worrying about something they absolutely couldn't change, after all. They were just to go on with their lives and she would let them know what happened with Ed as soon as that information was something that she got her hands on.

But telling everyone not to worry and actually making it so that people didn't worry were two different things entirely. Without the direct strain of going to court and seeing Ed…without feeling like she was being pounded with questions that she would inevitably answer wrong in some way…Carol had started to calm down and was returning to herself, but Daryl knew that the worry was still there.

He'd offered to return to the Greene farm…to continue the separation they'd been enforcing…if that was what Carol deemed best, but he hadn't really wanted to go back there. Luckily for him, she'd wanted him to stay…at least a few days…until she'd calmed down more about the situation. So he hadn't moved his stuff back in yet, out of the expectation that he might be exiled again, but he returned to the house in the evenings after work to stay the night.

Today, though, was an exciting day. Daryl wasn't nearly as excited as Carol was…and she wasn't nearly as excited as he'd thought she'd be if it weren't for all the stuff hanging in the air about Ed…but he was going to pretend to be every bit as excited as she was to feed the first genuine smiles that he'd seen from her since the day before the court mess had even begun.

So this morning they'd had breakfast and Carol had taken longer to get ready than she normally did, and then Daryl had driven her to her doctor's office where he sat in what was becoming a familiar uncomfortable chair. He had considered entertaining himself with any number of the boring books and magazines that were in place in the office, but he'd decided against it and instead he'd spent his time watching the pregnant women that came into the office, wondering when it was he would feel like he could tell that Carol was pregnant.

He hadn't actually seen her naked in quite some time, that was true, but in clothes he could say she had filled out a little at best. She didn't look like some of these women. There was one woman, in particular, that Daryl had fixated on simply because of the sheer size of her. He'd only reminded himself once or twice that it was impolite to stare because he'd realized she was looking back at him and it wasn't with the kindest look he'd ever received.

And it wasn't like he could excuse himself, really. He couldn't very well tell the woman that he was waiting on Carol and he was trying to imagine if her body even had the capacity to accommodate something that was the impressive size of the child that she was obviously carrying.

There were others that weren't that big…though they were still hard for Daryl to really wrap his mind around. He was hoping that this ultrasound thing they were supposed to see today, whenever they finally called him to come back, would help him out a little with the whole ordeal. He'd heard the heartbeat, but seeing something…anything really…might make things just seem real.

Daryl wanted to be just as excited as Carol was about this whole thing. He wanted to be all gung ho about the baby and thrilled with blankets and such…but he hadn't gotten there yet.

When they finally called him in the back, though, and he'd come in to find Carol talking to the doctor.

"Nice to see you again," the doctor said to Daryl when he walked in.

He smiled at her and nodded, already nervous by the entire thing.

"So everything we've had a look at is fine," the doctor said. "Blood pressure is a little high, but Carol says that she's been a little stressed?"

Daryl looked at Carol and then at the doctor and nodded.

"Reckon ya could say that," he said. He didn't think she knew quite the level of stress that they were talking about. Carol reached a hand toward him and he took it, frowning at her slightly. At least all the damn bruises were either gone or pretty well faded. He'd been an asshole about it, perhaps, but when he had seen that she'd apparently been pinching the hell out of herself until it looked like she'd been back with Ed a while, he'd had a fit about it. Sure, her crying could be annoying when he didn't feel like hearing it, but he'd sure as shit rather her cry about something than know she was bruising the hell out of herself.

Besides that, it didn't look good either and he wondered to himself what the doctor probably thought because she had to have seen the ones that lingered behind still.

"Well, we're going to have a look today and see if we can tell what the baby is while we're looking at the anatomy. Sometimes we can't, though, it's just according on the baby's position…so we'll have to see," the doctor said.

Daryl watched the rest of the damn thing with absolute fascination. This wasn't like the pictures that Carol had thumb tacked to the board on the refrigerator. He could actually see what the doctor was pointing at and the thing looked...at least a little bit…like a baby. It was moving too. The doctor called it a "mover and a shaker" and Daryl had actually started to feel excited about the damn thing, even though it was still somewhat hard to believe that what the screen told him was going on in there was actually going on in there.

"OK," the doctor asked, finally. "So you want to know what it is?"

"Yeah," Carol said. She was squeezing all of Daryl's fingers together now and he kept wiggling them to try and get her to loosen her grip a little. He didn't think it was out of nerves anymore...right now it was more like she was a kid at Christmas. She hadn't taken her eyes off that screen for one minute and she'd started crying as soon as they heard the thumping of the heartbeat again.

"Well, it's sometimes hard to tell, but you've got a little girl, and she's not shy at all," the doctor said.

"It's a girl?" Carol asked.

The doctor smiled and nodded, pointing at the screen.

"It's a girl," she said. "Pretty clear. She wanted you to know."

Daryl couldn't even believe what he was hearing. It wasn't that he'd really cared if it was a boy or it was a girl. In reality he hadn't thought about it much. Honestly he only halfway believed in the kid until now. So the shock that was running over him right at this moment didn't have so much to do with the fact that it was gender or another as it simply had to do with the fact that he felt like it was rushing over him that they were really having a baby.

They were having a baby. It looked like a baby. It was healthy according to the doctor. It had a regular heartbeat. It was apparently a bit of a busy body. And it was a girl.

Daryl was so caught up in this that he hardly even heard anything else that the doctor said. He'd been asked one or two questions and he hoped they weren't important because he was fairly certain that he hadn't even responded to them. He was too wrapped up at the moment in the fact that they were having a baby and it was a girl.

He shook the doctor's hand and offered her some kind of thank you and a farewell, though he wasn't sure if it had been entirely appropriate since the part of his brain that was taking over functions like that at the moment was the part that acted entirely off of some kind of sense memory that this was how one functioned in certain situations.

Carol slid off the table and Daryl watched as she walked over the chair in the corner to get her shoes and and shirt. She came back, putting her purse on the table she'd just been on and started to look for the tag in her shirt.

"When'd ya start gettin' a tummy?" Daryl asked.

Carol pulled her shirt over her head and shrugged at him as she ran her fingers through her hair, picking out her curls. She started to put her shoes on right away.

"I don't know exactly," Carol said. "I know…I'm getting fat."

Daryl chuckled.

"If that bothers ya then ya ought notta see that woman that was in the waitin' room earlier," Daryl said. "I'm pretty sure she's got a quarterback trapped in there."

Carol laughed then and picked up her purse. She looked at him for a minute with the look of expectation that she typically got when she was about to say something or she was waiting for him to say something.

Daryl held her chin between his finger and thumb and tipped her face toward him, kissing her in response to her look of expectation.

"Are you mad?" She asked when they pulled apart.

"Why the hell I'm s'posed ta be mad?" Daryl asked. He put his hand on her shoulder and directed her out of the room now, almost able to find his way through the labyrinth and back to the waiting room on his own.

"Because it's a girl?" Carol asked as they made their way into the waiting room. Daryl didn't respond. Instead he stood to the side and waited while Carol went to the desk and spoke with the nurse that was back there. Daryl glanced around, looking for the really huge woman to show to Carol, but she was gone.

When Carol came over, finally, Daryl walked with her out to the truck.

"No I ain't mad it's a girl," Daryl said when they were in his truck and headed back toward the house. "Hell, I reckon ya prob'ly the only Ma that ever gave half a damn 'bout bein' one any damn where in my family…might as well be the first damn one ta have a girl."

Daryl glanced at Carol and she was rubbing at her stomach. He reached his hand over toward her, glancing back at the road.

"Can I touch it?" He asked.

He smiled when she moved his hand, pressing it on her stomach. He didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling, though, and he didn't feel anything really except her stomach, so he flexed his fingers quickly and tickled her before she could laugh and snatch his hand away. He chuckled to himself as he drove about her squeal.

"So damn ticklish," he said.

"That was mean!" Carol scolded. Daryl could tell she wasn't really mad, though, there was laughter behind her voice and he liked the sound of it. It had been a while since he'd heard it. "I let you put your hand on my stomach to be nice to the baby and then you go and tickle me like that!"

"I'm sorry," he said. He chuckled and held his hand out again. "Here lemme try again."

Carol pushed his hand away.

"No!" She squealed. "I'm not falling for it a second time!"

Daryl snickered.

"I'm serious," he said. "I won't do it this time."

Carol timidly brought his hand back and he teased that he was going to tickle her, but he didn't. He just patted her and then brought his hand down to rest on her leg.

Carol sighed and put her hand over his on her leg.

"Somethin' wrong?" He asked.

"Now I'm just worried you wanted a boy," Carol said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Ya can find the damn most things ta worry about," Daryl said. "Ya wanna know the truth? I don't give a damn one way or the other and that's the truth. Hell long as it ain't a goat kid or somethin' like that I reckon it's just fine. Besides…ya said ya wanted more kids. Might get a boy outta one a' them."

Carol nodded and squeezed his hand and he squeezed her thigh.

When he pulled into the driveway he could see they weren't alone. He knew, and he wasn't supposed to tell Carol, that Michonne and Andrea were planning on being there when they got home, but he didn't really realize that they'd be there so early.

"What is this?" Carol asked as they pulled up and saw both their vehicles in the driveway. "They're supposed to be at work."

"Eh…kinda said they was takin' the day off ta surprise ya," Daryl said. "Reckon it worked."

Carol smiled and got out the truck so Daryl got out his side. He really wanted a cigarette, but he figured he could walk Carol inside and get all the party bullshit started and then he could slip out without the women even realizing he was gone.

When they got inside, they were met at the door by Andrea and Michonne, each holding one of the girls, and Daryl suddenly realized how completely outnumbered he really was in his life.

"Surprise!" Both of the women said. Unfortunately Andrea's surprise scared the kid she was holding and everything else got put on hold a minute while they shuffled them about so that Michonne could try to get the child over the fear of Andrea trying to surprise Carol.

"Well?" Andrea asked when the crisis was over. "What'd you get?"

Daryl looked at Carol and she was looking at him. He held up one of the pictures out of the folder that he'd snatched out of the truck on his way inside. He knew they couldn't tell from it that it was a girl…he hadn't been able to tell anything from it. The other picture was the one he liked better because he could sort of see the outline of the baby in that one, but he honestly didn't have a clue how they told the gender.

Both of the women frowned at him, though, and Carol reached over and lightly swatted at him.

He grinned.

"We got us a boy," Daryl said.

He looked around and wasn't sure what to do with the faces. Michonne and Andrea had started into the congratulations mode and Carol was looking at him like she didn't quite know what to do. Daryl chuckled at all three of them.

"And ain't no damn body gonna make fun of 'im just 'cause he ain't got no dick," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled now and it was the turn of the other two to look confused.

"It's a girl!" Carol clarified. "We're having a girl."

Now Daryl had to endure the hugging and the squealing women excitement over the thought that another was coming into their little gaggle. Daryl shook his head at the whole thing.

"I'ma go smoke," he said. "I know ya ain't gon' miss me, so ya just do ya baby thing an' I'll be back."

He leaned in and kissed Carol quickly, chuckling again at all the excitement that had been stirred up in his house. He stepped out the door, finally getting to have the cigarette he'd been craving since just after he'd gotten good and situated in the waiting room of the doctor's office.

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"So?" Michonne asked when Daryl was gone. "What did the doctor say? Everything good?"

Carol nodded.

She wasn't even sure how she felt at the moment. It seemed so surreal. She was really happy…and not really because the baby was a girl…she hadn't really cared if it was a boy or a girl…but just because all was fine. The doctor said she might try to gain a little weight, which she didn't think was much of a problem…and she'd said she needed to relax and try to keep calm.

That was the hard part lately. The keeping calm. With everything going on with Ed she'd been on edge to say the very least. She was feeling better for the moment, but she knew that if she just let her mind drift for too long she'd be back to where she was, worrying about things she couldn't do a thing about.

She tried to put it out of her mind, though. Today she didn't want to think about Ed. She just wanted to put him where the hell he belonged and she wanted to think about her baby…her daughter. Even as she thought it in her head, her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

"We made a cake," Andrea said, pushing Carol toward the counter where she opened the top on a cake plate.

"It says 'It's A Baby,'" Carol said with a snicker.

Andrea chuckled in her ear where she was leaning against her. Michonne had stepped around the corner to make sure that Angelica, who was playing with Lincoln, wasn't trying to tie the poor thing's ears in a knot.

"Yeah…well…" Andrea said. "When we started making it we realized we weren't going to know what it was in time to write the gender on there…so you got a 'It's A Baby' cake. Congratulations!"

Carol laughed.

"Well I love it," she said. "It's the nicest 'It's A Baby' cake that anyone has ever made me."

Michonne came back around the corner and Carol held her arms out, taking Celine for a bit to balance her on her hip. She couldn't help but think that one of these days she'd be doing the same thing except it would be with her own daughter.

"Can I ask you something?" Carol asked Michonne.

"Knock yourself out," Michonne said, moving around Carol and starting to help Andrea get plates and things to actually eat the cake.

"When did you start to feel the girls move?" Carol asked. "The baby moved around a lot during the scan today…and the doctor said I would probably start to feel it soon if I wasn't feeling it already. I told her I didn't think I was and she said I might not know yet what it feels like."

Michonne stopped where she was, obviously thinking, and Carol watched as Andrea took the plates out of her hand.

Michonne made a face.

"With Celine…it was early…I think I was probably about where you are…probably about sixteen weeks. With Angie, though? That was a lot later. I felt her moving, I just didn't realize it. I didn't realize I felt it until I was like twenty weeks or something and someone else actually…you know…saw her moving and until then I'd never put what I could see together with what I could feel," Michonne said.

Carol made a face and turned a second, kissing at Celine who was trying to pull her hair.

"What does it feel like?" Carol asked.

Michonne chuckled.

"In my opinion…at least in the beginning…it feels like gas. Later it gets more intense," Michonne said. "Once you realize what it is, though, you'll know the difference between the baby and gas."

"This is so lovely," Andrea said, leaning against the bar.

"You never have gas, I suppose?" Michonne asked with a snort.

"Not that I stand around having conversations about," Andrea said.

"Well…you're missing out, then," Michonne said. She directed her attention back at Carol then. "Even though Andrea doesn't get gas, I do…and that's what it feels like. You'll be able to see her start moving soon if you can't already. Little tiny twitches and stuff. That trumps feeling it in my opinion."

"Eeew!" Andrea protested, now focused on cutting the cake. "See it moving? Like around? No thank you!"

Carol laughed.

"Did you think she was just going to be still?" Carol asked.

Andrea scrunched her face up at her.

"You know…I just tried not to think about it, really. I mean I get the whole 'oh the baby kicked' mess…but I was planning on skipping out on that too. Just send her a message or whatever and tell her not to do any of that moving where I can see it," Andrea said.

Carol and Michonne both laughed at that.

"Sure," Carol said. "I'll make sure I figure out how to send that message. No moving in Andrea's presence because it grosses her out."

Andrea plopped a piece of cake on a plate and sat it up with her fingers when it fell over.

"It doesn't gross me out like baby puke or something," Andrea said. "It just sort of makes my skin crawl to think about it."

"Wait a minute," Michonne said. "We can talk about baby puke while you're serving cake but you can't talk about gas?"

Carol laughed and shook her head. She shifted Celine to her other hip and started out the door, leaving Andrea and Michonne to serve cake and argue about what was permissible conversation, and she went to find Daryl and tell him it was time to come in and eat cake…and then maybe after they ate cake she could figure out how to thank her friends and usher them out of the house for a little while so she could maybe get a quiet evening in with Daryl to celebrate their daughter.


	104. Chapter 104

**AN: Hi everyone! A little something else from Sweet Junction for you here! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl could tell that Carol wanted to be alone…or at least she wanted to be alone with him. Michonne and Andrea must have gotten it too, after all they weren't complete idiots and Carol was pretty obvious with asking them when they were leaving and what their plans were, so soon after they'd finished with cake they'd taken the girls and left.

Daryl didn't even know, in fact, if Andrea had even been intending to leave at all. She lived here, after all, and might have had intentions to stay. She'd left with Michonne though, and Daryl had found himself alone with Carol.

But suddenly he felt like he didn't know what to do. He felt like it was almost their first time alone together since they were operating on some strange set of rules that he wasn't sure he entirely understood. He was supposed to be there…but not be there. He was supposed to be close to her and be with her…but only so close and there were limits to what "being with her" meant, though he didn't really know what the limits were until he hit them.

When Andrea and Michonne had left, Carol had gone to sit on the couch, so Daryl joined her. He sat awkwardly beside her for the moment, unsure of what was supposed to be happening. If they'd left on their own then he wouldn't have felt any pressure for anything to happen, but because she'd seemed so damn ready for them to go, he felt like she had plans and he didn't know what they were.

"Did'ja want me to leave too? Was I missin' that part?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Was it that obvious that I wanted them to leave?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled and chuckled a little.

"Sorry ta say it," he said, "but it couldn'ta been more obvious if you'da kicked 'em in the ass as they was goin' out the door."

Carol looked horrified for a moment. She put her hand up, covering her mouth.

"I didn't mean for it to be so obvious," she said. "I just…I just wanted us to be alone for a little while."

Daryl chuckled again.

"I don't think they cared much, an' we alone now," he said. "What the hell'd ya have in mind?"

Daryl didn't want to sound like some sex starved teenager, but the fact of the matter was that he felt like he'd be suffering from damn blue balls before long. He'd done everything in his power since he'd tried to come back not to make a move on her…to let things move along at a snail's pace if that's what she wanted. And there had been the month before that when he'd stupidly gone on some kind of vacation from life.

Now his sex life had been reduced to trying to make his dick behave in her presence and jacking off like a damn fourteen year old whenever he got the fuck alone.

Carol looked at him and bit her lip and Daryl was silently thanking whatever gods it was that were on his side. She had that damn look in her eye like she was missing him just as bad as he was missing her and he thought she might not put the brakes on him this time. She didn't say anything, though, and he wondered if she needed just a little nudge or something.

So Daryl leaned over on the couch and brought his lips to hers, softly at first. She pressed back against him and opened her mouth, granting his tongue access. He twisted around and moved one of his hands into her hair, tangling her auburn curls around his fingers and pulling her face to his, holding the kiss as long as he could.

Carol twisted a little on the couch, bringing her body more in line with his, and Daryl moved to let her slide into a more comfortable position, breaking the kiss only a moment and immediately bringing his mouth back to hers.

He brought his hand down, still holding the kiss, and searched with his fingertips to find the hem of her shirt. He brought his hand under it and pushed forward, sliding his hand under the cup of her bra and taking her breast in his hand, squeezing.

He was already hard. He really wasn't any better at this shit than a fucking teenager. It didn't take more than squeezing her breast once and he thought he'd lose his fucking mind.

"Wait…" Carol panted, pulling her mouth away from his and resting her head on the arm of the sofa, having wiggled into laying down on the thing under him. Daryl thought if he was that kind of man, this would be the moment he'd cry because she was going to tell his ass to get in the truck and drive back to the Greene farm.

Daryl sighed and sat back on his feet, careful not to crush her. He ran his hand, frustrated through his hair.

"What?" He asked. "Ya gonna tell me ta go back ta Hershel's or what?"

Carol frowned at him.

"Are you mad, Daryl?" She asked.

Daryl sighed and chewed the side of his thumb.

"I ain't mad…but damn Carol…" Daryl said. "I need ya ta give me a fuckin' window or somethin'. How long's this shit gonna last? I ain't sayin' I ain't gon' wait it out, but I just wanta fuckin' know how long I gotta wait or else I'm gon' keep thinkin' ya gonna forgive me just ta find out ya ain't."

Carol looked at him, blinking at him now but nothing more.

She groaned after a minute and tried to push her head back, but the arm of the couch stopped it and she only succeeded in pushing her chest up toward him.

"Actually…" she said. "I was going to say that we should go to bedroom…but you're right…we need to talk about this."

Daryl sighed again, tugging at his own hair.

"Let's talk about it, then," he said. "Let's get this shit outta the way. How long is it gonna take ya ta forgive me for bein' an asshole?"

Carol sat up a little, sliding out from under him a bit.

"I forgive you, Daryl. I do. I haven't done any of this out of some attempt not to forgive you," Carol said. "You left, though, and you didn't call…and you didn't come by…and you didn't make any indication that you really expected to ever be back. You know as well as I do that we just keep messing this up. It seems like no matter how hard we try, we never get it right."

"Seems ta me like we got two damn choices," Daryl said. He shrugged and shook his head a little. "We can either fuckin' do this shit or again or we can give it up. Ain't no damn good for neither one a' us ta just stay in some fuckin' limbo land though. I don't want ta go back ta stay at the Greene's farm…I wanta stay here with you…an' the baby. If ya don't want me to stay, though, I'll go…but I don't think I can go without knowin' how fuckin' long I gotta do time for."

Carol shook her head.

"I don't want you to go," Carol said. "I want you to stay, Daryl. I didn't want you to go in the first place. I just don't want you to go later either. In fact, it's not even about want, Daryl. I need you to tell me that if you stay then you're staying. That's just it. You can't run away. You can get mad if you need to get mad and you can stomp and snort…or whatever it is you need to do…but you can't run away from me. I can't handle that."

Daryl reached down and brushed his thumb on the side of her face.

"I ain't leavin' again," Daryl said. "I can't say I ain't gon' be an asshole never again…an' I can't say that I'ma do shit right 'cause I'm real damn good at fuckin' shit up, but I ain't leavin'…not if ya let me stay."

"I can't promise that I'm not going to be difficult to live with," Carol said. "And I cry, Daryl…I cry over stupid things…and I've never been able to control it, no matter how bad I knew it was going to cost me…and I don't think it's going to stop now."

Daryl chuckled a little.

"Maybe I could learn ta ignore the cryin' when it pisses me off if ya could try ta ignore sometimes when I do stupid shit?" Daryl asked.

Carol lie there, looking at him. That was all…just looking at him. Daryl felt his chest ache, almost like it was closing up.

"I love ya…I hate that I fuck shit up with ya, but I do…but I still love ya," Daryl said.

He chuckled to himself again because he could see tears brimming in Carol's eyes.

"Oh go the fuck ahead an' cry about it if that's what the hell ya wanna do!" He spat.

Carol laughed at him then, but the tears did make their way out her eyes and roll down the side of her face. Daryl brought his back to her face and he wiped at them with his fingers.

"Can I fuckin' stay?" He asked.

Carol nodded.

"Don't leave me again," she said.

Daryl leaned down and kissed her.

"Christ woman, not 'til they put my fuckin' corpse in the dirt, OK?" Daryl said when he pulled away from the kiss.

Carol shook her head, more of the tears spilling out of her eyes.

"Please don't say that," she said.

Daryl smiled.

"Really?" Daryl asked with a smile. "Ya gon' cry over that shit too?"

He climbed over her and got off the couch. He reached a hand toward her and she took it. He pulled her up and she moved around, gaining her feet and following him quietly toward the bedroom.

When they walked in the room, Daryl closed the door so that not even Lincoln could disturb them. He kissed her, tangling his fingers in her hair and holding the side of her face to keep the kiss exactly where he wanted it for as long as he wanted.

As he kissed her, he walked her slowly backwards, toward the bed. He broke the kiss when he felt her bump the bed and he reached down and pulled her shirt up, letting her come out of it. He tossed it on the floor and she reached around, unclasping her bra and dropping it beside her shirt on the floor.

Daryl came out of his own shirt then, letting it join the other discarded clothes, and he unceremoniously came out of his pants and everything else, figuring to save time later since there was no denying where the hell this was going. Carol smiled at him when he looked up at her while he was peeling everything off and she shimmied out of her own clothes.

Daryl brought his hands to cup her breasts, kissing her as he did, letting his mouth trail down to kiss the crook of her neck and her collar bones.

Carol moaned and rolled her head back. As she stood there in front of him, Daryl bent down, taking one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked it, rolling it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth and Carol gasped.

Daryl brought himself back up and met her in a kiss again, smirking against her lips.

"Get on the bed," he said, barely moving his face away from hers.

Carol nodded and swallowed and got on the bed. Daryl grabbed her around the hips and pulled her toward him to the edge of the bed, lifting her legs so that they rested over his shoulders and he buried his face in her, lapping at her and sucking at her, his hands holding tight to her to keep her from bucking away from him in the squirming she was doing to accompany her whimpers and moans.

He rolled the little ball of nerves she was so damn fond of between his tongue and his lips and sucked at it, bringing one of his hands to stroke her. She was bucking, at this point, so much that he almost laughed at the fact that he could barely keep his mouth in place. He slipped a finger into her and stroked her until she screamed out. When he was sure that she'd milked what she could from the orgasm, he pushed her back and got on the bed with her, pushing her legs back up over his shoulders.

"Ya OK?" He asked.

Her expression looked pained almost and he wasn't sure if it was actually one of sincere pain or if it was the pained look that sometimes accompanied her pleasure. She nodded, panting.

Daryl lined himself up with her and pushed into her fully. He hissed at the feeling of being inside her again and had to stay still for a moment to keep himself from really living out every teenage nightmare. She was wetter than he'd thought she'd ever been before and he had to admit that he liked it. She folded into him a little, her hands going to his shoulders.

Finally, when he was sure that he could hold it together for at least a little, he began to move and she matched him, thrust for thrust, until they both came together and Daryl found himself biting down on her shoulder without even the realization that he was doing it until the feeling passed.

When he had at least a little control of himself, he moved off of her, releasing her legs from their position, and kissed the bite mark on her shoulder, sorry that he'd left a mark.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Carol rolled her head, looking at him, still panting.

"Sorry?" She panted.

"For bitin' ya," Daryl said, kissing her face. He moved to kiss her neck, nuzzling it there, smelling the mixture of her scent and the sweat on her skin.

"Don't be," she said. "Don't be sorry…"

Daryl kissed her shoulder then, her collarbone again. He lingered for a moment before he looked at her again.

"I love you…" Carol said, looking at him, her eyes fully open now. Daryl brought his mouth back to hers and lingered there in a long and lazy kiss.

"I love ya too," he said. He dropped to his side, finally, beside her and ran his fingers around the skin of her chest and stomach, tracing some of the lines that were barely there…barely visible.

Daryl let his fingertips trail down softly to the lower part of Carol's stomach and he rested his palm there, just over the place where she'd identified she was getting fat.

"So a little girl, huh?" Daryl said.

Carol propped her head up on one hand and looked at him, the other hand coming down to run her fingertips over the top of his hand.

"A little girl," she said. "Who's not shy…she wanted to show it all off." Carol snickered.

Daryl chuckled.

"She's gonna have ta stop that shit right quick like," Daryl said. "Just fine while she's all tucked up in there, but that shit ain't gonna fly when she gets out here."

Carol snorted and Daryl looked at her.

"I'm sure we'll get control of it before she's old enough that we have to worry," Carol said.

"She's a mover too," Daryl said. "She was bouncin' all around. Can ya feel it when she does it?"

Carol shook her head.

"I don't know," she said. "I can't tell if I can or if I can't. I guess I'll just have to wait until I'm sure."

Daryl nodded a little.

"Ya ain't gon' paint the nursery pink, are ya?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him.

"I hadn't really thought about it," she said. "Why? You don't like pink?"

"Hell no," Daryl said.

"Then what color do we paint it?" Carol asked. "If we leave it white it'll be boring for her."

"Ya said ya favorite color's purple," Daryl said. "Ain't pink…but it's still kinda girly. Why don't we paint the damn thing like some baby purple or some shit like that?"

Carol smiled.

"Yeah?" She asked.

Daryl nodded.

"I'd like that," she said.

Daryl rested his head on the bed beside Carol. He felt relaxed, ready to sleep almost, though he didn't really want to drift off and leave her. He kept his hand where it was, on her stomach, and she'd relaxed and rested her own on top of his.

"Are you going to change diapers?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Prob'ly gonna suck at it," Daryl said. "But I reckon I could learn how ta change diapers."

"You won't suck at it for long," Carol said. "It's not too hard."

"Reckon we'll see…" Daryl said.

He lie there a few minutes in the quiet, fighting the nap that was trying to crawl over him. Under his hand, he felt Carol's body rising and falling with her breathing. It was evening out…getting smoother, and he realized without even looking at her that she was relaxing and would probably sleep soon too.

"I'm really glad ya lettin' me stay," Daryl said. "I swear I'ma try not ta fuck it up this time."

"I'm glad you're staying," Carol said. "I promise I'll try not to make it hard not to fuck it up."

Daryl chuckled and shifted his body, pulling closer to her and moving up so that he could kiss the side of her face. Carol shifted then and rolled next to him, resting her head in the crook of his arm.

"S'too damn early ta go ta bed," Daryl said as he felt her hugging him.

"Not bed," she said. "Just a nap…we'll get up to eat, OK?"

Daryl chuckled and leaned enough to kiss her head.

"Sounds good to me, woman," Daryl said. He sighed. "Sounds pretty damn good."


	105. Chapter 105

**AN: Happy Saturday night everyone! It's been a fun fanfic day here for me! **

**I'm glad you all seemed to enjoy the last chapter. I think at this point we are definitely starting to see how life and its experiences are starting to change our characters and they're all starting, at least slowly, to grow in one way or another.**

**Here's another little chapter for you. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl couldn't believe that he was actually going in search of his asshole brother, but he was. He was on the way back from the Greene farm with his shit in the back of his truck and he'd been thinking about something Carol had been saying about Andrea and her feelings for Merle…and also about the fact that his brother was hanging around down at the Water Ho just to harass the hell out of Andrea for dating Axel.

Axel, as far as Daryl could tell, was actually an OK kind of guy. He got along with everyone and Daryl really didn't have anything bad to say about the guy. He seemed to be really fond of Andrea, but from Carol had told him they were friends, more than anything else, and Axel was just holding onto the hope that somewhere down the line Andrea would want more than that from him.

The part that Daryl couldn't understand was that Andrea was still hooked on Merle, apparently. Daryl knew that Merle was hooked on Andrea, whether he'd admit it or not, but Merle was the asshole of the year in that situation, so Daryl had sort of thought that Andrea would just coast right on down the road and hook up with someone else…like this Axel character…but really she was still fond of his dumbass brother.

And all of that was fine and dandy, really. Daryl couldn't really give too much of a fuck what any of them did as far as screwing up their own love lives…goodness knows his was an ongoing project…but he didn't like the idea of Merle harassing Andrea down at the Water Hole or any damn where else. And Carol didn't like it either. He'd had to agree with her, after talking to her about it, that it was one of those situations where Merle was either going to have to do something about his shit or he was just going to have to back the fuck off and leave Andrea alone.

So for whatever reason, Daryl thought it might be a good damn idea to find his older brother and have this little heart to heart with him. He'd told Carol that he was going to get his shit from the little apartment at Hershel's farm and then he was going to swing by the Water Ho and see if he couldn't find Merle.

And sure enough, as he came into the smoky ass little bar where not one damn thing ever changed, he found Merle sitting at the bar.

Andrea wasn't working tonight. Tonight Loretta was working on her own it seemed, and she was keeping busy hustling around from one bunch of drunk assholes to the next.

Daryl spoke to Loretta as he passed by her and she greeted him, telling him to help himself and she'd be with him shorty. He went directly to the bar and heaved himself up on the stool next to Merle.

Merle looked at him out of the corner of his eye for a minute like he was considering not speaking to him. He chewed on the toothpick hanging in his mouth and then leaned over and helped himself to a shot glass behind the bar, plunking it down in front of Daryl and pouring him a shot.

"Ain't drinkin'," Daryl said. He remembered that he had the truck and he had all his shit in the back and he didn't need to get hauled in for DUI.

"Bullshit," Merle growled.

"I'm serious, Merle, I'm drivin'," Daryl protested, pushing the shot glass in Merle's direction.

"So leave ya shit here an' ya can crash at my place," Merle said. "Fuck lil' brothah…ya hide ya fuckin' face away from me half the damn time, act like ya fuckin' ashamed a' me or somethin' an' now ya too damn good ta have a drink with me? What the hell's that damn Mouse done to ya?"

Daryl took the shot after all and figured one of the people that lived in his house…or almost lived there…would at least come and get him if nothing else.

"Don't call Carol a mouse," Daryl said. "An' she ain't done shit ta me. I been stayin' away from your sorry ass by my own damn choice an' it's shit like that right there that made me stay the fuck away."

"Well…" Merle said. "Ain't'cha just feelin' big for ya britches tonight, Derlina? I seen ya gave ya woman ya balls…reckon ya borrowed 'em for the night just ta come over here an' jack ya fuckin' jaws at me a while."

Daryl shook his head.

"Know what, Merle? I'm the only damn one between us that's got a set of balls…and I can guaran-damn-tee you that Carol ain't got none at all…but she's still got a bigger damn set than you got," Daryl said.

Merle turned and eyed him and Daryl could tell from the look on his face that the only reason they weren't about to tangle up and fight at the moment was because he'd happened to catch Merle at that point when he was drinking where he'd had just enough to feel friendly and enough not to want to punch out anyone that so much as looked at him.

"Ya best watch ya mouth," Merle said. "I seen ya lil' woman up in here…ain't so damn little no more. She fattened her ass right up when she figured she had ya all tied up."

Daryl knew that Merle was trying to get at him, and it was working. He flexed his fingers, trying to ignore the fact that he wanted to try and break his brother's jaw again if he'd broke it before.

"She ain't fuckin' fat!" Daryl responded. "She's pregnant…and that's my fuckin' kid."

Merle chuckled.

"So damn sure a' that?" He asked, looking at Daryl sideways.

"Damn sure am an' I'm warnin' ya not ta start that damn shit. I done had ta know that some fuckin' lawyer's been talkin' shit about her an' I ain't gon' sit here an' listen ta your ass do it," Daryl said. "She ain't fat an it's my kid. End a' damn story."

"Mmmm…" Merle hummed his amusement. "Ya sure that ain't just a beer belly she's got goin' on? I heard about'cha DUI lil' brothah…news travels in Sweet Junction."

"I weren't drunk. And she's pregnant alright. Done seen the kid myself all dancin' 'round on a television screen." Daryl fixed himself another shot and took it, chuckling to himself. "Got me a little girl," he said. "An' she was hoppin' all around an' kept lookin' like she was movin' her hand to her face. Carol said she reckon she got it from me ta wanta chew on her fingers."

Daryl couldn't help but smile to himself about it. The doctor had told them that the baby could suck her thumb and touch her head and from there Carol had suggested that she would probably keep her hands there with as much as Daryl absentmindedly bit at his own fingers. It was strange to him to imagine that he had a kid…and that she took after him in some damn way…but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

Daryl realized that Merle was looking at him, half turned toward him on his bar stool.

"Ya really gone right on ever the edge there, ain't'cha Derlina?" Merle asked.

Daryl looked at Merle, his smiled dropping.

"Don't start," Daryl said. "Not if ya don't want me gettin' off this fuckin' stool right now and stayin' my ass as far away from ya as the damn town a' Sweet Junction'll let me get."

"So you would turn ya back on ya own brothah after all, huh?" Merle asked.

Daryl took another shot and glanced around him at all the familiar assholes keeping the place in business. Finally when his vision settled back on his brother he nodded his head slightly.

"If that's what I gotta do, Merle, then that's what the hell I gotta do. I got me a kid, now," Daryl said. "Ain't gon' be no damn asshole ole man like ours was…an' I ain't draggin' ya ass 'round my daughter if ya don't fuckin' know how ta act," Daryl said.

Merle took the toothpick out of his mouth and deposited it on the bar, taking another shot and shifting his jaw like he was trying to pop it.

"What'cha tryin' ta say then, Daryl?" Merle asked.

Daryl shrugged. The truth was he hadn't planned not one damn bit of what he wanted to say tonight. He wasn't sure if any of it was coming out the way he wanted or if it would come out the way he wanted, but he figured it had to be said, one way or the other.

"I reckon what I'm sayin' is ya gotta quit bein' such a fuckin' asshole, Merle. If ya give one hot damn about me or ya so much as wanta know my daughter…ya gonna have ta look into learnin' how ta act like ya got the damn sense that God gave mud," Daryl said.

"Listen at'cha, Daryl," Merle said. "Ya ain't got no daughter…Ya ain't got no kid. All ya got is a fat girlfriend…an' ya damn near threatenin' my ass over that?"

"Shut up, Merle. I do got a kid!" Daryl responded. "Ya just so damn busy bein' a dumbass ya don't know nothin' 'bout it. I got a picture of it to prove it. Just ain't done cookin' yet…so sayin' that it ain't here makes 'bout as much fuckin' sense as havin' a damn rabbit in the oven an' sayin' ya ain't got shit 'cause it ain't done yet."

Daryl was surprised, then, when Merle chuckled.

"Fine…Daryl…if it makes ya happy then good damn luck with ya kid," Merle said. "Ya ain't gon' want it when ya get it, though. Damn annoyin' lil' fuckers."

As a general rule, Daryl didn't care for kids. He'd never been around them too much, but they were typically noisy and leaky and annoying. It was different, though, when he thought about Carol and him…when he thought about his own baby and the family they talked about having. He didn't feel like his daughter would be so leaky…or so damn annoying. She was going to be his kid, after all, and that was something that none of the other kids he'd ever been around had been.

"I mean it," Daryl said. "Ya ain't comin' 'round if ya can't act like ya got some damn sense."

Merle chuckled again.

"Don't know what the fuck's happened ta ya, Derlina, but I don't hardly recognize ya," Merle said.

Daryl took the shot that Merle offered him, noticing that Merle was calming down a little beside him and he thought that maybe his brother was going to drop being such a dick for a bit.

They sat there for a while, in silence, sipping on whiskey and sharing Daryl's cigarettes. After a while…Daryl wasn't really sure how long…Merle turned to him.

"Bullshit aside…" Merle said. "I'm proud of ya, Daryl."

Daryl damn near choked on the whiskey he was sipping from the shot glass and Merle reached over, pounding him on the back hard enough to knock his tonsils out.

Merle chuckled a little when Daryl got control of himself.

"Fuck's in this whiskey?" Daryl asked.

Merle chuckled again and shook his head.

"I am…" Merle said. "Fuck…I don't know if ya gon' fuck up at this shit or not but if ya gon' be a Daddy then I'm proud that'cha man enough ta be all gung ho about the shit. Be the first damn Dixon that ever was a decent father."

Daryl nodded his head. It was the only thanks that he could give, really. If he'd tried to genuinely thank Merle for what he was taking as possibly the largest compliment his brother had ever paid him, then Merle would have ended the whole damn conversation right there and told him not to be a pussy and try to be all damn feely and sentimental about shit.

"Ya gon' be the first damn Dixon that ever was a decent uncle?" Daryl asked after a few minutes.

Merle set his jaw again and lit another cigarette. He looked at Daryl out of the corner of his eye.

"Ain't makin' no damn promises," Merle said. "But I reckon I can see what the fuck I can do."

Daryl smiled. He couldn't really believe it, but that was about the best he could get from Merle. That was at least some kind of confirmation that his brother his was going to try to do better in some damn way, and from Merle that was damn near monumental.

Daryl decided as long as he had Merle in a somewhat decent frame of mind, he might as well go ahead and launch into why the hell he was there.

"Merle…what the hell ya doin' with Andrea?" Daryl asked.

Merle looked at him.

"Ain't doin' shit with her…or did ya get so fuckin' wrapped up that'cha ain't noticed?" Merle asked.

"Heard ya been harassin' her," Daryl said. "Hangin' 'round here throwin' shit at her…cat callin' her ass…givin' her a hard damn time 'bout Axel."

Merle sucked his teeth.

"That the skinny lil' fucker she's been bumpin' uglies with?" Merle asked.

"Ya know who the fuck it is, Merle," Daryl said. "As ya said…ain't no damn secrets in Sweet Junction."

"So…" Merle said. "What the fuck ya care? Ya chasin' her skirt too?"

Now it was Daryl's turn to suck his teeth.

"Merle…I come here ta be straight up with ya 'bout Andrea an' I ain't gon' say this damn shit more than once. I ain't gon' tell ya that shit with me an' Carol is a fuckin' picnic every damn day that the sun comes up, 'cause it sure as shit ain't, but it's a hell of a lot better than any damn thing I ever had before in my life," Daryl said. "My whole damn life ya been tellin' me that gettin' tied down to a woman was 'bout the worse damn thing that could ever fuckin' happen…and I'm here ta tell ya that'cha fuckin' wrong. It's 'bout the best damn thing."

"That's real damn sweet, baby brothah," Merle said with a chuckle. "I'm damn glad ya came out here ta share that shit with me."

"Ya know ya care about Andrea," Daryl said, ignoring Merle. "Fuck…everybody knows ya care about Andrea. An' for whatever damn reason, she cares about your crusty ole stinkin' ass."

Merle poured Daryl another shot of the whiskey and Daryl lit one of his own cigarettes, figuring he might as well enjoy one or two before Merle finished off the pack. There was more in his truck, but at the moment he didn't feel like making the journey.

"Ya damn near a poet, Daryl," Merle said. "Ya gotta fuckin' point or ya just recitin' bullshit for us tonight?"

"My point is," Daryl said, blowing out the smoke from the drag that he took off the cigarette, "that you need ta man the fuck up. Either get in there an' bite the damn bullet an' tell Andrea ya fuckin' care about her or have the balls ta back the fuck up…really leave her ass alone…an' let her get on with her fuckin' life with someone who does want what the hell ya too chicken shit ta try."

"Big damn talk ya got there, lil' brothah," Merle said.

Daryl noticed his tone of voice wasn't harsh, though, and Daryl wondered if he might have hit a bit of tender spot under Merle's crusty exterior.

"I ain't sayin' ya gotta write her fuckin' poems an' shit," Daryl said. "But if ya give a rat's ass…an' I know ya do…ya need ta tell her."

Daryl sighed and took another drink.

"Hell, ya might fuckin' like it if ya was nice ta her…she ain't so damn bad if ya don't treat her like shit," Daryl said. "An' she deserves not ta be treated like shit…so if ya ain't gon' be the man ta do it…then get outta her fuckin' face an' let her move the fuck on."

"I ain't no damn pussy," Merle said.

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't 'bout bein' a pussy, Merle…it's 'bout bein' a fuckin' man," Daryl said. "I reckon I've learned a fuckin' thing or two, whether ya believe me or not, an' sometimes part a' bein' a man is learnin' how ta be a nice guy…'specially when it comes to a sweet woman that'cha wanta be close to."

"Ain't how a fuckin' Dixon acts," Merle said.

Daryl chuckled.

"Yeah…an' ain't not a whole damn lotta Dixons had them no decent ass women neither," Daryl said.

Daryl yawned and slid off the stool, starting around the bar.

"Loretta!" He called, getting the attention of the slightly heavyset older woman. She looked in his direction and he waved at her to let her know it was him that had called her. "Usin' ya phone ta call a ride."

"Go ahead sugar!" Loretta called back across the bar.

Daryl picked up the phone and dialed the house number. From the sounds of it, she wasn't alone. He figured Andrea and Axel were there. He told her that he was down at the bar and needed her to come pick him up and it would be a bonus if somebody would come to drive his truck back. He considered, for a moment, suggesting that Andrea come…but then he glanced over at Merle and decided that he probably hadn't decided entirely what he wanted to do.

When Daryl got off the phone he walked over to the bar and took a cigarette out of the pack, tossing the rest of the pack in Merle's direction.

"Here," he said. "Have a smoke on me an' think on it."

"Where the fuck ya goin' so early?" Merle asked.

Daryl was going out in the parking lot to wait on his ride and smoke a cigarette, that's where he was going. He dug a few bills out of his pocket, enough to cover whatever he'd drank of the whiskey, and he tossed it on the bar, keeping a couple in his hand to pass to Loretta on his way out.

"Got me a woman, Merle," Daryl said. "An' I got me a kid…I'd damn sure rather be at home with that than here in this dirty ass ole bar."

Daryl tipped his head at his brother, put the cigarette in his mouth, and made his way through the bar. As he passed her, he patted Loretta on the shoulder and passed her the bills, nodding at her and exchanging niceties before continuing on and letting himself out the heavy wooden door and into the parking lot.

Outside, in the cold air, Daryl lit his cigarette and leaned against the brick wall of the establishment, the light of the flashing sign…it's bulbs never having been replaced since he moved there…reflecting off of him. He watched the road, waiting for any sign of someone's car or truck coming to pick him up.

He didn't know if Merle was going to make any effort at all to change his ways, and maybe expecting him too was too much. Daryl didn't want to get his hopes up too high. Still, he had at least said his peace, and he hoped that maybe, just maybe, his brother could see that he'd fallen into the terrible trap that Merle thought a relationship was, and he felt like he'd come out better for it.

Daryl finished the cigarette just as Carol pulled up in her truck. Andrea and Axel spilled out and Daryl threw his keys to Axel and got in Carol's truck as he watched the other two get in his to follow them.

"Thank ya for comin' ta pick me up," Daryl said as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I told you I wasn't letting you stay away from me anymore," Carol said, smiling at him.

Daryl chuckled and reached a hand over, resting it on her thigh as she drove him back home with the others following close behind him in his truck.


	106. Chapter 106

**AN: Hello everyone! Here's another little chapter for you. I might try to get something else updated today, but no promises! **

**As always, I want to thank you all for your comments and reviews. They make my day! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!**

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Daryl lie in bed with Carol beside him, her head in the crook of his arm. She was kissing his chest at intervals, just where her lips could reach and tracing her fingertip around his nipple. He'd thought she might be annoyed by having to come and pick him up but that wasn't the case at all. In fact it was damn near the opposite. He'd barely gotten in the door good before they were excusing themselves to go to the bedroom. He hadn't even unpacked his truck, and she didn't seem to care if Andrea and Axel were in the living room watching television, she'd already almost begged him twice to have sex with her and the way that she was rubbing her leg up and down his made him think that she might start it up again.

"Ya gotcha batteries all charged up tonight, don't'cha?" Daryl asked letting his fingers trail over her arm. In response she snuggled deeper into him and shifted her head a little, rubbing her face against him.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Daryl sighed.

"Don't be sorry," he said, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "Damn…I like it when you the one makin' the demands."

Daryl thought about it and chuckled.

"What?" Carol asked.

"Makes me feel like I'm doin' somethin' right when you the one that's askin'," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled in response and kissed the flesh on his chest, turning her face a little.

"You are doing something right," she said. "You always do…I'm just…it's embarrassing to ask."

Daryl chuckled.

"That's why I ought not have ta do it all the damn time," Daryl said. "Ya got just as much damn right ta tell me when ya feelin' froggy as I got ta tell you the same damn thing."

Carol sighed and Daryl brought his other arm around hugging her against him.

"You don't seem as stressed out as you usually do when you talk to Merle," Carol said. "He wasn't as bad tonight?"

Daryl hummed a little as he thought.

"Hard ta be stressed out when I feel like I ain't been home a hour an' ya done made half the neighborhood jealous a' what the hell was goin' on in here," Daryl said with a laugh.

Carol swatted at him before resuming running her finger around his nipple and he decided not to tease her too much. She could be strangely sensitive when it came to sexual things. As much as he liked it and he loved the way she was when she wanted him, she always seemed to think it was bad or wrong that she did…and tonight he didn't feel like trying to explain to her again that he thought it was great.

"Merle weren't too damn bad," Daryl said. "Give me hell that'cha weren't pregnant…weren't my kid…same ole shit that Merle always falls his ass back on."

Carol shifted then and raised herself up on her elbow, looking at him. Daryl smiled at her regarding him…her eyes wide and her hair a mess.

"What did you say to him?" She asked. Her voice somewhere between curious and defensive. Daryl couldn't help but chuckle.

"Simmer down," he said. "What the hell ya think I told him? Told him it was my damn kid an' he ain't comin' 'round if he don't learn how ta act like he oughta have his own fuckin' cage at the damn zoo."

Carol leaned in now and brought her lips to his and he kissed her, rolling a little toward her.

"And what did he say?" She asked when their lips had barely parted.

Daryl made a face.

"Said he'd see what the hell he can do. I ain't expectin' no damn miracles," Daryl said. "Said he was proud of me."

Carol smiled.

"He said he was proud of you?" Carol asked. "That doesn't sound like Merle to me."

Daryl chuckled.

"I damn near choked. Don't sound like Merle ta me neither," Daryl admitted. "Said he was proud that I was excited 'bout the baby."

"Are you really excited about it, Daryl?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded his head a little in response.

"I think I am," he said. "I liked…well…I liked bein' able ta see it, ya know? I mean I liked knowin' that it's real…ain't just somethin' we talkin' 'bout that ain't never gonna happen."

Carol sighed, but it wasn't a troubled sigh. She slid up, rearranging herself until she had her head next to his on the pillow, looking at him.

"If everything goes OK," she said, "then it's going to happen. It's real…and soon you'll be able to see its real just looking at me. You'll be able to feel it."

"Mmm…" Daryl said. "I can already see it's real…like now when ya ain't got'cha clothes on. Ya don't look like some a' them women in that office, but'cha already got'cha a lil' pouch made."

"A pouch, Daryl?" Carol asked. She made a face at him. "I'm not a kangaroo."

Daryl smiled.

"Ya kinda is," he said. He rolled over and pushed her backwards on the bed, pulling himself up and dipping down to kiss her stomach. "This right here," he said. "This shit weren't here 'til ya started makin' ya lil' pouch."

Carol sat up a little and frowned at him and he kissed her.

"Don't'cha poke ya lips out at me," Daryl said. "Ain't nothin' wrong with it…it's what's s'posed ta happen."

"Yeah," Carol said. "But I wish I looked pregnant…you know…instead of just fat."

Daryl chuckled.

"We'll make signs on all ya clothes then," Daryl said. "Lettin' people know if it they can't figure that shit out."

Daryl leaned in, kissing her neck and biting the skin there gently, nuzzling behind her ear and enjoying that there, just where he could smell her hair too, was a place that smelled so strongly of her.

When he pulled away, he sat on the bed beside her, looking down over her.

"Told him he's gotta either leave Andrea the fuck alone or do somethin' about that shit," Daryl said.

"What do you think he's going to do?" Carol asked.

Daryl sucked his teeth and shrugged.

"Ain't no damn tellin'," Daryl said. "If he's got any damn sense at all then he'll do somethin' 'bout it. Fuckin' unhappy bastard wants her an' she's so damn stupid that she wants him…hell if that ain't a fuckin' match made in heaven then I don't know what the fuck is."

Carol laughed.

"That's terrible, Daryl!" Carol said. "Andrea's not stupid!"

Daryl laughed and shook his head.

"That's the only damn part a' that'cha disagree with, huh?" Daryl asked.

"Well…" Carol said with a smile.

Daryl sat beside her, looking at her laying there, wide open and vulnerable…just staring up at him. He rubbed his hands down her, cupping her breasts and she closed her eyes, turning her head to the side. He couldn't help but snicker at her. He slid his hands down, squeezing her sides firmly enough that she wouldn't accuse him of tickling her and brought his hands under her hips, shifting her a little in his direction before he moved his hand and rubbed it over her swelling stomach that she thought made her look fat. He sighed.

"What was that?" Carol asked, turning her head back and looking in his direction again.

"What was what?" Daryl asked.

"That, Daryl," Carol said. "What was that?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Just wanted ta touch ya…weren't nothin' really," Daryl said. "Why? It weren't OK?"

Carol smiled and shook her head from side to side a little.

"No…it's fine," Carol said. "I just didn't know what you were doing."

Daryl reached out and caught Carol's hands in his. He held one in each of his hands, pressed down into the bed on either side of her head. He leaned over her and kissed her and she lifted herself up, meeting him. He held the kiss a little longer than he had to simply because he was enjoying the feeling of her lips and her tongue playing against his. She bucked up at him and he broke it then, snickering at her.

"Again? Damn woman…gonna wear me out…I ain't one a' them damn mechanical ponies, ya know," Daryl said.

Carol obviously blushed and looked a little mortified and Daryl was immediately sorry. He brought his lips back down to hers, but she didn't return the kiss with the same enthusiasm as before.

Daryl put his face next to hers, still holding her hands, and whispered in her ear.

"I was teasin' ya," he said. "That's all…just joshin' with ya…OK? Buyin' myself some damn time 'cause it ain't that I don't want ta be with ya all the damn time…I just gotta take breathers every damn now and again…but I was just teasin' ya."

As Daryl brought his head back up, he kissed the side of her face and then brought his lips back to hers before he even dared to look at her since he could tell by the sound of her breathing that there was a good damn chance there would at least be some proof of tears waiting on him when he did look.

She met him in the kiss this time, though, and he held it like he had the first, diving back in and deepening it again when she'd started to pull away.

Daryl threw his leg over her, straddling her, but maintaining the rest of his position the same, hovering over her with her hands gently pressed into his. He moved enough to dip his head and suck at one of her nipples and she moved her body, swaying up toward him, writhing a little, a moan escaping her. He brought his head up and went to the other and her movements and the sound intensified.

He felt himself going hard and he finally let go of her hands, bringing one of his to her core to tease her while he stroked himself with the other to try and get ready for her. She leaned up a little, bringing her own hand to wrap around him and stroke him and he moved in rhythm with her until he was sure they had to move this to the next level if he wasn't going to come just because of the feeling of her soft hand squeezing and working him.

"You want it?" He asked.

Carol nodded at him, moaning her confirmation. Daryl smiled.

"What'cha want?" He asked, reaching his hand down to tease her. She looked at him and he knew she hated him asking, but he intended to keep asking until she was comfortable with the question. "Come on," he said, smiling, "just say it an' I'ma make it good for ya."

Carol moaned at his teasing, thrashing a little.

"You!" She said with some irritation. "I want you…" She moaned.

Daryl smiled and dipped his head, kissing her and then he moved into her. She brought her legs to wrap around him and Daryl changed his position enough that both of them could get comfortable and find a rhythm that worked for him and allowed Carol the angle that brought, at least in Daryl's opinion, the most interesting mewls from her.

Daryl felt like they stayed like this for a long time, longer than usual, both working to get what they wanted from the other while at the same time trying to make sure that they gave something back. He knew, when he came that time, after she'd already found her release and started to rock lazily below him, that he was about as damn exhausted as he could get for one night.

When he dropped, panting, on the mattress beside her, he brought his finger over and traced her throat where he could see her swallowing repeatedly, trying to get control of herself.

"I know I said I'd let'cha decide," Daryl said after a second. "But I want'cha ta marry me."

Carol turned her head quickly toward him but she didn't say anything immediately.

"I ain't gon' hit'cha an' I ain't gon' leave ya…an' ain't one damn thing gonna fuckin' change 'cept I ain't gotta call ya my fuckin' girlfriend no more or wonder how the fuck I'm s'posed ta tell someone about'cha without feelin' like I'm in fuckin' Junior High an' we passin' notes ta each other durin' class," Daryl said.

He took a deep breath realizing that his heart was pounding. It could have been the physical exertion from the sex, but he was pretty sure it was more than that and had a whole lot to do with the fact that he was asking her this again when it had been what had caused so damn much trouble between them before.

But he knew now that he wanted to marry her. He wanted to be able to say that she was his wife. Not that she was his girlfriend…like they might break up tomorrow and their relationship didn't mean much more than just someone you may or may not decide you liked…his wife. He wanted to be able to tell any damn person that asked that she was just that. The woman that he was trying to spend the rest of his damn life with…the woman he was supposed to be making two, four, or six children with depending on what she decided she liked best. Not his girlfriend…his wife.

Carol continued to look at him for the moment and now his heart really was beginning to pound, even more than before. He was terrified that he wasn't going to like the response that he got from her because of her silence.

"OK," Carol said, finally. Daryl let out the breath that he hadn't really realized he'd been holding.

"OK?" He asked.

Carol nodded.

"OK," she repeated. She smiled at him and nodded a little. "I'll marry you."

Daryl smiled.

"I don't got a fuckin' ring yet, but I will," he said.

Carol shook her head.

"We don't need rings," she said. "Or I don't."

Daryl frowned at her.

"Ya gotta have a ring," Daryl said.

"I don't need one, Daryl," Carol said. "And I don't need a fancy wedding or anything else. I think we're a little beyond that. Let's go up to the courthouse and get married there."

Daryl didn't really care how they got married. It didn't matter to him in the slightest. If she wanted to go up to the courthouse and get married then that was fine with him. He did kind of wish she had a ring, though. He knew that Michonne had showed her engagement ring off and Carol and Andrea had both cooed over it.

"We can go up there tomorrow," Daryl said. "Or whenever ya want. I don't care when we do it. I wish ya had a ring though."

Carol shook her head.

"We can go tomorrow…" Carol said. "If you're sure that you want to really marry me…or you can think on it. We don't have to hurry."

Daryl leaned over and pulled her close enough to kiss her.

"Ain't gotta think about it no more," he said. "I want ta marry ya an' that's all the hell there is to it."

Carol smiled and nodded.

"Then we'll get married," she said.

"We tellin' anybody?" Daryl asked with a chuckle. He knew that Michonne and Tyreese were planning on getting married in the spring and they were going to do it in the park. Everyone already knew that. And yet here they were…talking about getting married the next day? And not a damn person knew?

"I tell you what," Carol said. "I'll invite the girls and you can invite Merle. We'll go up there the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow we'll go get the license."

Daryl smiled.

"Fine…" Daryl said. "Reckon I'll tell the son of a bitch tomorrow that he better fuckin' stay sober 'cause I'm gettin' hitched."

Carol leaned and now and kissed him.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Woman, I ain't been sure of a whole lotta shit in my life, but I'm damn sure that I'ma marry ya ass," Daryl said. He chuckled and pulled her close to him. "That way ya can't get rid a' my ass so damn easy."

Carol kissed him again and then he felt her nuzzle him.

"I told you, Daryl…I'm not letting you go again," Carol said. "It's you that's not going to be able to get rid of me if you go through with this."

Daryl chuckled.

"Then that's fuckin' that, ain't it? We gon' get hitched an' then we gon' be stuck with each other," Daryl said.

"Daryl…" Carol said after a minute. Daryl hugged her against him before responding verbally.

"Yeah?" He responded.

"Can you ask Hershel and Miss Jo if they want to come?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled.

"I reckon I could do that tomorrow," Daryl said.

"Do you think it's alright to ask them?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled. The truth was he didn't know shit about weddings or wedding etiquette or who the hell you could and couldn't ask.

"Reckon we gettin' married so we can ask whoever the hell we want ta come," Daryl said. "Worst damn thing that can happen is they say they ain't comin'…and even if they do…reckon we still gettin' married."

He felt Carol nodding her head against him, shaking him a little.

"I love you," Carol said.

"I love ya more," Daryl responded.

"You do not!" Carol said. Daryl chuckled.

"I do," he said. "I'm bigger than you is…that right there means I love ya more."

"Yeah? Well I have all my love and all the baby's love over here…so I win," Carol said. "I love you more." She snickered.

Daryl chuckled.

"Don't count…that's two separate love tanks right there. So I still win. I'm bigger, I hold more. Ya don't get ta count the baby," Daryl said.

Carol laughed.

"I'm concentrated…that's why I'm smaller…so that means mine is stronger," Carol said.

Daryl laughed and rolled enough to kiss her hard. She giggled into his mouth and pulled away, dipping back after a second and tugging on his lip with her teeth.

"Fine then," Daryl said. "I reckon I got the most love an' you got the strongest…sounds like it oughta work out pretty damn good together."

Carol smiled brought her lips back to his for a soft kiss in response and Daryl wrapped his arms around her, excited by the thought that in just a couple of days he could safely say she was going to be his forever and that was all there was to it.


	107. Chapter 107

**AN: Everyone has been so great and so excited that I wanted to get this out to you. Tomorrow of course starts the work week and I've got quite a few things to get done this week, but I'll try to update often! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Calm down, Daryl," Hershel scolded as he was tying Daryl's tie…or rather as he was tying the tie that Daryl was borrowing from him for the wedding. Daryl didn't own a suit, but Hershel had some of his son's old suits at his house and figured one of them to be just about the right size for Daryl. He was right.

Hershel was at Daryl and Carol's house helping him get ready while Andrea and Michonne had taken Carol over to Michonne's house the night before insisting on enough tradition in this entirely nontraditional wedding that Daryl at least not see her before the wedding.

Daryl didn't know where Merle was or if his brother was going to show up for the wedding. He'd been told what time to be at the courthouse, but that was all Daryl could really do. Hershel had taken Miss Jo over on his way to the house to be with the women, so now it was just the two of them and Daryl was beginning to get nervous that they weren't going to make it to the courthouse on time.

"Ain't we gotta go soon?" Daryl asked, fidgeting with the tie after the old man finished with it. The suit was a little too big and the tie was a little too tight, and Daryl felt like he couldn't breathe.

"We've got plenty of time, Daryl," Hershel said. "You're not going to miss your own wedding. Not like I almost did."

Hershel chuckled.

"Alright, now the ladies have everything, so I think we're good to go. Do you have the rings?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"We ain't got none," Daryl said.

Hershel frowned.

"You're not exchanging rings?" Hershel asked.

Daryl felt his face burn hot. They didn't have rings. Carol had her parents old rings, or at least she had her mother's, but she'd worn them as her rings to marrying Ed…and for obvious reasons Daryl didn't wish to recycle those.

He didn't have any rings and even though he'd insisted on going to get some bands at least, Carol had said no and that it wasn't necessary. She'd said they'd be just as married without rings as they'd be married with them and they really had enough other expenses that it wasn't that big of a deal.

Daryl had complained about it to just about everyone. He knew that Merle had gotten an earful the day before. He'd complained to Michonne and Andrea about it. He knew they didn't actually need rings, and he knew the rings didn't really change anything, but he just sort of felt like it was pretty sad to be getting married without them.

"We just ain't got none," Daryl said. "Reckon we'll buy 'em later."

Hershel nodded. Then he smiled at Daryl and clapped him on the shoulder.

"It doesn't matter, Daryl," Hershel said. "The rings are just something outward to show everyone else that you're married. It doesn't change anything though…not about the love that's behind the act."

Daryl felt nauseous from his nerves and the ring problem did have him a little shook up. He nodded.

"People still gon' know we married though, ain't they?" Daryl asked.

Hershel smiled.

"You may have to tell them, but you'd have to do that for a while anyway. Let's go get you married, son. You can worry about the rest later," Hershel said.

Daryl nodded and walked into the bathroom taking one last look at the suit that he'd borrowed and hoping that it looked alright for getting married in.

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"Do you have some valium or something?" Andrea called through the house at Michonne. "I think I could wrap it in cheese and get it down her throat before she realizes what I'm doing."

"Stop it!" Carol barked at Andrea. "You would be upset too. Nothing fits! I don't have anything to wear to my own wedding!"

Michonne was wandering around the house trying to get the camera set up, make sure Tyreese and Jo were fine with getting the girl's dressed, getting herself ready, and trying to find something that Carol could wear. She had put all her maternity clothes in the attic that were nice enough and she was cursing herself. She went back to the closet and burrowed through it, coming out a few minutes later and making her way down the hall to the guest room where Andrea was already ready and everything about Carol was done except for the fact that none of the dresses would zip around the extra bit of belly she'd acquired.

"Try this one," MIchonne said, holding out the dress. It was a light yellow dress and not really appropriate for the season, but it was pretty. "The whole bodice is stretchy so it should accommodate our little Dixon."

Michonne watched as Andrea helped Carol get the dress on. Michonne smiled at her as soon as it was on.

"That looks good," Michonne said.

"You're just saying that," Carol said, shaking her head. "It all looks terrible! I'm fat and Daryl's not going to like any of them."

"Blow on her eyes, Andrea," Michonne said. "We don't have time to redo her make up. Carol…that dress looks good and you look beautiful and Daryl is going to think you're the most beautiful pregnant bride he's ever laid eyes on, but if we don't get this caravan moving soon then you're going to be an absent bride and Daryl's really going to freak out."

Carol sighed and turned to Andrea, interrupting the fact that Andrea was trying to thread baby's breath into her hair that she'd stolen out of one of the fake flower arrangements that had somehow ended up in the guest room at Michonne's house. Michonne didn't care for the arrangement, or remember where it had even come from, but she was thankful it was there since the baby's breath was a nice addition.

"What do you think?" Carol asked Andrea.

Andrea ran her ring finger under Carol's eye and blew gently at her face for what had probably been the hundredth time since they'd reapplied her make up for the second time.

"You look gorgeous," Andrea said. "I'd marry you myself but I'm pretty sure it's illegal in Georgia."

"OK, ladies," Michonne said. "Stand together and smile so I can make sure the camera's working."

Michonne snapped a picture of the two of them, and satisfied the camera was indeed ready to hold through this whole little event, set to work getting the whole of this part of the wedding party out the door and into her vehicle and Tyreese's vehicle to drive to the courthouse.

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Daryl was sweating buckets. Michonne and Tyreese were supposed to be driving Andrea, Carol, Miss Jo, and the girls over here and they weren't here yet. Hershel had told him to go around the side of the courthouse and smoke to calm his nerves and give them a chance to get inside when they got there, promising he'd come and get Daryl as soon as it was time for him to come in and get married.

Daryl didn't know why he was so nervous, but he was pretty damn sure he was about to die. He wasn't scared of getting married, actually…he knew he wanted to get married, and he knew he loved Carol…but he was scared that the whole damn thing was going to go wrong and somehow it wouldn't happen.

He paced back and forth beside the courthouse, just to the side of the pathetic, half-dead bushes that lined it. He hoped that Carol hadn't changed her mind. He didn't know what in the world they would do if that happened. What kind of protocol was there for that?

Daryl tugged at the tie again and started another lap in his pacing. He heard footsteps and turned around quickly, expecting to see Hershel approaching. It wasn't Hershel, though, it was Merle that came walking up.

Merle was walking up, his hands in his pockets. He was dressed nicer than Daryl had ever seen him dressed in black dress slacks and a dark blue button down dress shirt. He'd foregone the tie, but Daryl couldn't say he blamed him. He was being choked to death by his and wouldn't have worn it if it wasn't his wedding day.

When Daryl saw him, though, he hoped that he wasn't going to be a dick. Daryl was stressed enough about this whole damn thing that he was pretty sure he couldn't handle Merle's mouth right now.

"What'cha doin' pacin' 'round here Derlina?" Merle asked, walking up. "Damn baby ain't comin' yet is it? That's what the hell ya s'posed ta be wearin' ya shoes out for."

"Don't start, Merle, an' I'm serious," Daryl warned. "I ain't fuckin' dealin' with it today."

"Take it easy, lil' brothah," Merle said, chuckling. "Ole man told me ya was out here waitin' for ya blushin' bride ta show up, figured ole Merle come an' keep ya comp'ny."

Merle walked over and stood beside Daryl, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Where'd ya get that outfit?" Daryl asked.

"Bought it," Merle said. "Ain't every damn day my lil' brothah gets married. Where'd ya get'cha fine get up?"

"Hershel's son," Daryl said, tugging again at the tie.

Merle sucked his teeth.

"Got a smoke for me?" Merle asked.

Daryl fished in his pants pocket and offered his brother a cigarette, taking another for himself and lighting it before offering Merle the lighter.

"Don't know where the hell they are," Daryl said.

Merle chuckled.

"Ya gettin' hitched," Merle said. "First damn time a' many I reckon that woman's gonna keep ya waitin'. Keep ya pants on…ain't damn time for this shit ta start just yet."

Merle dug around in his shirt pocket, still rocking on his feet.

"Got'cha a lil' weddin' present," Merle said. Daryl stopped the nervous pacing he was doing to the side of his brother and looked at him. Merle wasn't one to give presents. Daryl wasn't sure he'd ever really gotten a present from his brother in his whole life.

Merle held his hand out and Daryl timidly stuck his out wondering what the hell he was about to have dropped into his palm. He was shocked, though, when Merle opened his hand and dropped two gold bands into Daryl's sweaty, upward facing palm.

Daryl looked at the rings and made a face at Merle.

"Where the hell'd ya get these?" Daryl asked.

Merle chuckled.

"Where the fuck ya think I got 'em Derlina? Bought the fuckin' things," Merle said.

Daryl crinkled his face up at his brother.

"Why would ya do that?" Daryl asked. He was in total shock at the moment. He'd even forgotten they were still waiting on Carol to get there.

Merle shook his head.

"Ya welcome, by the way," Merle said. "Ya was losin' ya shit 'bout not havin' no damn rings yesterday...an' I figured if ya hell bent an' determined ta make that lil' Mouse ya damn wife an' do right by that kid…well, ya oughta do this shit right."

Daryl blinked at his brother.

"Thank ya," he said. Daryl figured it was probably one of the only times in his life that he'd ever told Merle thank you for anything. He could have gone on about how he didn't even know what to think about it or even how to express how happy he was to have rings for the wedding, but he knew that the thank you would be about all that Merle would accept before he got uncomfortable and threatened to end the entire interaction.

Merle clapped him on the shoulder. That was the only response he gave.

"Prob'ly ain't the right sizes," Merle said. "Got 'em big sos ya could get 'em cut down so they right."

Daryl nodded and Merle squeezed his shoulder hard enough to almost make his knees bend a little.

"Don't go gettin' fuckin' prissy on my ass," Merle said. "Take ya fuckin' present an' marry ya fuckin' Mouse…but I don't want ta hear not one more damn thing about it."

Daryl nodded.

A few minutes later, Hershel came around the side of the building and told Daryl that it was time to go inside. Everyone else was in there and they were waiting on him. Daryl nodded and took a deep breath. He dropped the cigarette he held between his fingers on the ground and closed the rings tight in his hand. He led the way inside the courthouse with Merle and Hershel following close behind him.

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When Carol had married Ed, it had been a big church service. It had been planned long in advance and every single about it was supposed to be perfect. She'd remembered stressing about it long in advance and going through the motions of wedding showers and luncheons and all the things that her mother thought was necessary to have a beautiful wedding.

So many people had come to her wedding and her reception that Carol hadn't known all of them. She hadn't even had a chance to greet half of them at the reception. She'd had a beautiful dress, a perfect cake, her mother's rings, and the whole church and the reception hall were bathed in flowers.

And her Daddy had walked her down the aisle, arm in arm with her, right up to the preacher and he'd proudly given her away and kissed her on the cheek.

The wedding was a storybook wedding and it had been beautiful. Everything had been planned according to the age old law…or at least the belief that we'd picked up somewhere along the way…that a perfect wedding would make for a happy and perfect marriage.

Carol wasn't sure she believed that now, though.

In the small courtroom they'd set it up as much like a wedding party as they could. Daryl waited up front with Merle by his side as his best man. Andrea waited close by to be, what one might call, Carol's maid of honor, though the light yellow summer dress that she was wearing didn't have a train…and she didn't have a veil…so there was nothing for Andrea to arrange and no flowers for her to hold.

Tyreese and Miss Jo sat in the benches, each holding one of Michonne's girls and attempting to keep them calm during the process, and Hershel had looped his arm in Carol's and walked her down the center aisle of the little courtroom while Michonne took pictures of everything.

And Carol was nearly crying by the time that Hershel leaned over, kissing her cheek and whispering to her that she was beautiful before holding out her hand and offering it to Daryl who was looking at her like he'd never seen her before instead of like he'd seen her the night before when Andrea had kidnapped her in her pajamas and hauled her to Michonne's house.

The Justice of the Peace was an old man that Carol knew by name and by face, and she knew he'd known her parents, but she didn't know him well. Still, he seemed pleased to do the marriage for them and carefully and clearly recited the wedding speech out for everyone that was listening.

Carol tried not to cry as Daryl recited the vows, glancing nervously at the Justice of the Peace when he spoke and then back at Carol. He looked like he could barely breathe and Carol wondered if he was nervous or as overcome as she was.

And then when it was her turn to recite the vows, she did the best she could to keep her voice from breaking until she'd finished.

When the Justice asked about the rings, Carol began to admit that they didn't have any, but Daryl interrupted her and handed her the ring that she was to place on his finger. She held it in her hand and looked at him, confused, unsure as to where they'd come from since they'd agreed not to buy rings when they had bills that needed to be paid and, after all, a baby on the way.

Daryl just shook his head at her slightly and smiled at her and they'd exchanged rings. Finally, when the Justice pronounced them man and wife, Carol could hardly believe her ears. She stepped toward Daryl, leaning into him, and closed her eyes for the first official kiss as everyone around them clapped and cheered.

And Carol turned, looping her arm through Daryl's to be wrapped up in the hugs and congratulations of her friends.

At that moment, she thought the makeshift wedding they'd thrown together in just a couple of days was…by far…the most beautiful wedding that she could ever imagine.

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Daryl was shaking so bad that he was glad he hadn't driven to the courthouse. It was done now and he was married and he felt incredible about it. He loved Carol and seeing her up there, dressed in a soft yellow dress, her eyes filled with tears but her face smiling the way it was…it was more than he could handle. Now that he was coming down off of all of it, he knew his mind wouldn't have been the greatest to drive home.

So Hershel was driving them home with Carol in his truck between them, and Daryl sat beside her, holding hands with her the whole way home, their friends following along behind them for a quick "reception" at the house that would consist of a cake that Hershel had brought in that Miss Jo had baked and lemonade that Andrea had made the night before.

Daryl didn't know if the wedding was right…he wasn't sure if they'd actually done it the way they were supposed to do it, but he thought it had been a good wedding and he was a happier man in this moment than he'd ever been before.

He could bring himself to say anything, though, so he'd just ridden quietly in the truck, Carol's head leaned on his shoulder, and her hand wrapped in his.

When they got to the house, Hershel made them stay in the truck until he told them they could get out. They sat there in silence, neither really knowing what to say or how to say it, while everyone got out of their vehicles and piled around.

Finally Hershel signaled to them that they could get out and Daryl climbed out of the truck and helped Carol down before shutting the truck door and taking her hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Hershel said, smiling. "I give to you Mr. and Mrs. Daryl Dixon."

Their friends applauded them for the second time and Daryl felt his face burn hot. He could hear Lincoln howling from the side yard and he assumed that someone had let him out to applaud them in his own way.

"Come on Daryl," Tyreese called. He was standing at the door, holding it open. "Carry that lady across the threshold and let's get on with the party."

Daryl turned to Carol and she smiled at him, putting her arm around his shoulder.

"Lift with ya knees!" Daryl heard Merle call at him. He chuckled and felt his face go warm again. He wasn't used to having so many people looking at him all at once.

"Don't hurt yourself," she whispered, leaning into him.

He pecked her lips quickly before reaching down and scooping her up.

"Light as a feather, woman," he said.

As he stepped across the threshold of the house, having to be careful to turn and ease Carol through so that nothing got banged in the doorframe, everyone clapped again, having followed him up to the carport, and he sat Carol on her feet. She leaned in and he met her, kissing her.

"I love you," she whispered when she pulled away.

"I love ya too," Daryl said, pressing his forehead against hers and lingering for just a second before they had to turn their attention to the crowd that was flooding into the kitchen to celebrate the fact that they were officially starting their lives, as Andrea put it, as an old married couple.


	108. Chapter 108

**AN: So it's been a pretty long day here and I've got a lot of those in my future, which means I'll only get to write late at night. That being said…well…if it's not superb, please forgive me until further notice! LOL I will do my best to write when I can though, for those of you who are still enjoying the story and want the rest of it. **

**I'm so glad that you seemed to really enjoy the wedding. Here's a little after wedding/reception chapter for you. Sort of character check-in, if you will. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!**

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Daryl didn't really know what was supposed to happen during a reception, and he was a little overwhelmed with the fact that everyone's eyes were on him and Carol both, but he was enjoying the thought of it all.

They all gathered in the house, cramped at first in the kitchen, and under the instruction of Miss Jo he and Carol were supposed to cut the cake that she'd made and feed each other cake.

In his life, Daryl couldn't remember ever having been to a wedding, but everyone assured him this was normal practice, so he did what they instructed him to do and standing next to the bar he tried to accept the cake that Carol offered him with as much poise as he possibly could, painfully aware that everyone was watching him and Michonne was busy taking pictures of everything. When he'd eaten his bite of the cake he picked up a piece and held it out for Carol and she smiled at him and took it out of his fingers with her mouth, very obviously sucking them as she pulled away.

Daryl felt his cheeks burn when everyone laughed about it and cheered, and he figured that maybe that's what they were supposed to do, but it was a little embarrassing to think that everyone had seen Carol suck his fingers. He didn't have long to dwell on it, though, because Carol pulled him to her and kissed him hard, right in front of everyone, the taste of cake going between them.

And after the cake there was to be dancing. Andrea had a CD player that she sat up for them to dance in the dining room, where there was a little more room, and she declared that everyone better like her music because she'd put more effort into it than she had ever put into any mix tape in her life.

When she started the music, the first song was a slow song and they told Daryl that he and Carol had to dance first.

"I don't dance," he protested.

Carol looped her hand in his, though and pulled him to the clearest space in the living room, so that everyone could see them. She looped her arms around him and looked up at him.

"Just relax, Daryl," Carol said. "It's OK. You'll do fine. Just rock back and forth."

Daryl wanted to protest, but when she leaned her head against him, her arms going around him, he dropped his around her and hugged him, letting her rock him more than anything. He didn't know the song that was playing…the radio in his truck had been broken for as long as he could remember and he didn't often listen to music otherwise…but it was a song about love and, as far as he could tell, somebody singing about the fact that they'd found love when they didn't think that they ever would. He figured it was as suiting as anything was bound to be.

And after a few minutes people stopped watching him and Carol because everyone started dancing…alone or accompanied, and Daryl didn't feel so self-conscious anymore. He started to like the swaying and he liked looking around at others from time to time while Carol leaned against him, rocking.

When Daryl lost Carol, at some point, to Andrea who wanted to dance with her, he welcomed the break and excused himself into the kitchen to get some of the lemonade that was extra tart in contrast to the buttercream icing that seemed like an eternal coating on his tongue.

He found Merle there, leaning silently against the kitchen counter, sipping on some of the lemonade. Daryl walked over and leaned next to him, glancing around at everyone talking and dancing.

Michonne came over, demanding that Merle and Daryl pose for a picture, which they did with Merle jokingly kissing Daryl's cheek, and then she disappeared to go and take pictures of Carol who was now dancing with Hershel.

"So…ya feel different? This what'cha wanted?" Merle asked after a moment.

"Don't reckon much is different," Daryl said, finally stripping himself of the tie and laying it on the counter behind him. "But this sure is what I wanted."

"That lil' woman's gotta be plumb outta her mind ta decide ta be a Dixon," Merle said with a chuckle.

Daryl grinned to himself. He felt like he was on some kind of high just at the thought of it. It was only slowly sinking into him that he was married to Carol. She was actually his wife. They'd actually gone and they'd said "I do" and now there wasn't any more wondering what would happen because it was forever now.

"She might be outta her mind," Daryl said, "but I'm sure glad she is."

Merle sucked his teeth and chuckled. Daryl looked at him. He didn't know if it was what he'd said to Merle or the fact that he just got married today, or what it was, but there was very little of Merle's typical asshole "self" present. He almost didn't even look like Merle. If he wasn't acting like a sane human being, Daryl would have thought he was strung out on something to be so very different at the moment.

Daryl decided, though, not to draw attention to it and ruin it. It was his wedding day, and the last thing he needed was his brother acting like a jackass.

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Carol was giddy. This reception far beat her last reception. Every single person here knew her...nearly everyone had danced with her…and truth be told the cake was far better than the professional one she'd had at her wedding with Ed.

She excused herself after dancing with Tyreese and went into the kitchen, cutting herself a hunk of cake and putting it on the dainty little cardboard plates that someone had brought. She picked up the plate and crossed the kitchen where Daryl was leaning against the counter and showing Merle the ultrasound picture from their last appointment.

"Daryl…Merle doesn't want to see that," Carol said, covering her mouth so that the big bit of the cake she'd already crammed in there wouldn't come spewing out. "And I don't think you're supposed to pass around your baby pictures at your reception."

Merle laughed at her.

"Now wouldn't be a true Dixon weddin' if'n the baby weren't invited," Merle said.

"He asked to see it," Daryl said.

Carol couldn't believe that Merle would want to see it. Everyone else in the room had already seen it. She'd let Daryl take it to Hershel and Miss Jo as a form of show and tell even. He didn't care much about the picture where they were supposedly able to tell the baby was a girl…and she kind of understood his feelings since she couldn't tell anything about the picture either…but the other one he was fond of because you could actually make out the profile of the baby, or if you couldn't, both of them thought you could.

"See…looks like she's suckin' on her thumb already," Daryl said.

Merle held the picture up and looked at it, a half smile curling on his lips.

Carol knew from what she'd read that most baby's at their daughter's size would suck their fingers and hands in the womb, but Daryl was so tickled to think that she'd gotten it from him and his habit of nervously gnawing at his thumb nail and cuticle, that she hadn't had the heart to tell him that it was just natural and she didn't think it hurt anything to let him think that it was something special that his daughter did.

Carol stood to the side and watched as Daryl took the picture back from Merle and took it back to the fridge, tacking it up with one of the magnets.

"Shoulda known my lil' brothah didn't have a pair big enough ta make a boy," Merle teased as Daryl joined them again.

"He was just afraid that if it was a boy it was going to turn out like you," Carol said. "So he decided to go with a girl. Takes more ability to choose your gender."

Merle looked at her, narrowing his eyes for a moment and smirking. He chuckled and shook his head after a minute.

"Damn Mouse, already spoken like a damn Dixon," Merle said.

Carol snickered at him and finished off the cake that she was eating by stuffing the last of the piece into her mouth. She balled the napkin up and held it in her hand until she was ready to move to the trashcan and throw it away.

"Leave any cake for anyone else?" Daryl asked, watching her chew with her hand over her mouth in an effort to hide the fact that the bite of cake she'd taken hadn't exactly been as bite sized as she'd thought it was.

She swatted at him instead of answering and he chuckled, reaching out and grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. She didn't fight him. She simply leaned against him, her head on his chest.

Honestly, she was tired. It had been a lot of excitement and a lot of stress, and a lot of everything else, and she was just plain tired. She hated to admit it, though, because this was Daryl's first…and better be his last…honeymoon, and she was sure he was going to have plans with it.

The truth was that she had a lot of interest in that as well, but she was wondering if she could maybe talk her husband into a nap first…or maybe a nap interval.

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Michonne tried to hide the fact that she was yawning at intervals. She'd been up most of the night trying to put finishing touches here and there on what needed to be done to make sure the day went off without a hitch. She'd also had to help Andrea figure out, since both of them were pretty damn technologically challenged, how to make the CD on her laptop that they'd burned for the reception.

And it was getting late…at least by reception standards. Michonne didn't know exactly how long they were all supposed to stay. This wasn't a traditional wedding, and it wasn't a traditional reception, so it was kind of difficult to figure out what rules applied and what didn't.

Michonne glanced around, checking for the locations of her little ones. Celine was easy enough to find. She was curled up against Tyreese's chest, next to Michonne, humming a little song and obviously fighting sleep while she picked at the buttons on his suit. Anjelica, on the other hand, had been playing with Lincoln most of the day and the two had free range of the house.

Now, though, Michonne could see that the girl was occupied by sitting on the couch, in Hershel's lap, being entertained by a pocket watch on a chain that the old man was letting her gape at while Miss Jo looked on. She smiled in their direction and raised her camera, snapping a picture of the scene without letting them know that they'd been spotted.

Andrea was sitting on the dining room table, watching Daryl and Carol as they swayed around together, talking about something softly. Michonne snapped a few pictures of it to go with the already dozens that she'd taken of the happy couple dancing together.

She knew that Daryl and Carol had their problems, and they certainly hadn't seen the last of them…not unless they both tragically died within the hour…but she really couldn't be happier for them if she tried. Watching them right now…just the way they were looking at her…made her sure that if anyone could make it, they'd one day be just like Hershel and Miss Jo…just like they wanted to be.

Michonne sighed and yawned again, lifting her camera to snap a picture of Merle. He had really surprised her today. She wouldn't have believed the man before her was Merle Dixon if she didn't know it was, and she was still somewhat unsure if he hadn't been kidnapped by aliens or something and what they had wasn't actually Merle but, rather, some kind of clone of Merle.

Pod people, aliens, or what have you, though, Michonne would rather have the copy they got than the one that they had before.

Merle had spent most of the day just sort of blending with the rest of the group. He'd talked business a little with Tyreese and she'd caught him…and she had the picture to prove it because she knew no one would believe what she'd seen…leaning down on one knee at some point to offer Anjelica a bite of the cake that he was eating.

Now, he was lingering, one hand in his pocket and a cup of lemonade in the other, around the living room, shuffling in a relaxed circle around the dining room table. He alternated, if watched closely enough, between watching Carol and Daryl dance and watching Andrea dreamily watching them.

Michonne nudged Tyreese.

"And here we have the mating dance of the exotic super asshole," Michonne whispered. "Notice how he has spotted his mate, and has begun his signature shuffling walk in hopes of attracting her attention."

Tyreese chuckled.

"I hope to God you're talking about Merle and not Daryl," Tyreese whispered back, leaning in closer to her and kissing the side of her face gently after he spoke.

Michonne chuckled.

"Daryl is not a super asshole," Michonne said. "He's a regular sized asshole."

"Merle's been strange today," Tyreese said. "I don't know what it is, but he hasn't been so…"

"So much like Merle?" Michonne asked, turning to look at him a second before turning her attention back to watching Merle obviously trying to work his way up to speaking to Andrea.

"Something like that," Tyreese said with a chuckle.

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"Congratulations, Daryl," Hershel said, following Daryl out the door. Daryl had intentions to smoke, but Hershel was just coming out to keep him company while Miss Jo was inside saying goodbye to the other women that were still in there.

"Thank ya," Daryl said. He chuckled after a minute and lit his cigarette, noticing Hershel looking at him like he expected explanation. "Was just thinkin' that I ain't sure we'da made it here if it weren't for ya runnin' 'round after me a good bit a' the time."

Hershel chuckled.

"I've hardly run around after you, Daryl," Hershel said. "You've done this all yourself…you and Carol. If anyone has helped you along the way…well they were just helping hands. You two had to be the ones to do the work, though."

Daryl nodded his head.

"Still, I reckon what I'm tryin' ta say is…well…I appreciate all the times ya let me yack at'cha when I just didn't know what ta do about sh-stuff," Daryl said.

It was strange for him to say these things. He thought them, but thinking them and saying them were two different things. It was different when he talked about what he thought or what he felt with Carol. She was a woman…and now she was his wife…but Merle would have said that any man who would talk to another man like that wasn't acting like he was supposed to.

Hershel didn't seem to care, though, or even notice. He stood beside Daryl, his hands stuffed down in his pockets.

"Well…Daryl…just because you're a married man doesn't mean you can't still ask me when you're wondering what you should do about things," Hershel said. He chuckled. "We all need a little help sometime."

Daryl nodded at him.

Hershel glanced back toward the house.

"I suppose Jo is taking her time," Hershel said.

Daryl nipped at the skin on his thumb and nodded.

"That's one thing you'll learn, son…if you haven't already. Women run on their own clocks."

Daryl chuckled.

"Kinda figurin' that one out," Daryl said. "Ya want me ta stick my head in the door an' see if she's comin'?" Daryl asked.

Hershel shook his head.

"No…this kind of thing is something that women love," Hershel said. "It won't do me any harm to wait until Jo's good and ready to go." The old man patted his shoe on the ground and Daryl noticed him kicking what appeared to be a screw, though Daryl wasn't positive where it had come from, back and forth between his shoes. "Rushing Jo out of there, though…that might not be so harmless."

Daryl chuckled. He felt, for the moment, like he'd maybe just entered into some kind of secret club. Like now the advice that Hershel had to share with him took on a different kind of meaning. Now he wasn't just some guy figuring out how to get Carol to like him…now he was going to be navigating what it meant to keep the peace with his wife.

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"Do you want me to take all this?" Michonne asked, unplugging the CD player from the wall and wrapping the cord around the handle.

Andrea was cleaning up in the kitchen and simply nodded at her. They'd had to do just about everything short of tying Carol down to convince her that she wasn't cleaning up after her own reception, so Tyreese was entertaining her and Daryl both in the living room with the girls.

"Yeah," Andrea said. "I'm almost done here. I'm going to take the garbage out for pick up in the morning and get my clothes together and I'll be over at your house. You can go ahead and head out."

Michonne nodded and went on into the living room to say goodbye to Daryl, Carol, and Merle while Andrea heaved up the trash bag and started out the door with it.

She was halfway down the driveway when she heard footsteps padding behind her and turned around to catch Merle walking close behind.

"What do you want, Merle?" Andrea asked.

She was trying with everything she had to pretend that she hadn't been watching him all day. He looked good. He looked better than she'd ever seen him look before and once or twice he'd hovered near enough to her that she could tell that he smelled good too. He'd apparently gone all out for Daryl's wedding with new clothes and new cologne…of course he'd never admit it.

She was also trying to pretend that she hadn't been impressed by how he acted. He'd been polite…or at least as polite as anyone could ever expect from Merle…to everyone all day and he hadn't caused a scene once.

"That's a damn nice way ta greet a ole friend," Merle said. "Actin' all snooty all day like ya couldn't even see me."

"Oh, I didn't miss you," Andrea said.

She made it to the road and heaved open the lid on the plastic green trash can that was waiting for pick up. She started to lift the bag over the side when she felt Merle hoist it out of her hand and toss it over, slamming the lid shut quickly. She turned around to him, crossing her arms over her chest and he smirked at her, giving her an obvious look over.

"What?" She asked.

Merle chuckled.

"Damn, bitch! Can't even say thank ya!" Merle said.

Andrea raised her eyebrows.

"Thank you, Merle," she said. "Now what is it?"

"Ya look right good," Merle said. "Clean up all right."

Andrea made a face, wondering how long they were going to stand here before he either got to some kind of point or she quit waiting and headed back to the house.

The din of voices from the carport drew her attention and she glanced toward the house, noticing Tyreese, Michonne, and the girls carrying their goodbyes over and starting out to leave.

"That's my cue," Andrea said. "Time for me to get my shit together and get out of the newlywed's hair."

She turned and started up the driveway.

"Ya reckon ya might wanta get a little somethin' ta eat…cake ain't done shit for me," Merle said.

Andrea stopped and turned back to Merle. He didn't often offer for her to "eat" anything that wasn't immediately followed by some junk about what he had for her to eat.

"Are you asking me to dinner?" Andrea asked.

Merle hummed a little, sucking his teeth.

"Weelll," he drawled, buying himself time. "I'm just sayin' ya all fancied up…an' I took the damn time ta get clean. Seems a shame ta waste it when the damn sun ain't even set yet."

Andrea glanced at the sky as though she hadn't noticed that it wasn't dark out. She knew that she'd be taking a chance going out with Merle. There was the chance that he was going to be a total dick once he got out of whatever it was in the atmosphere that had him parading around and pretending to be a human being. There was also a chance, though, that he would stay in character…and then she'd have to put some energy into keeping control of herself.

She had no intention of simply rolling over for Merle Dixon…even if he had borrowed a human costume from somewhere for the night.

But dinner might not be too bad…and she was kind of hungry…and her other alternative was The Little Mermaid with Michonne, Tyreese, and the babies.

Andrea nodded her head, careful not to smile very broadly.

"OK," she said. "Let me get my things. You can drop me by Michonne's after dinner."

Merle offered her a little smile.

"I'll walk up an' say bye ta my brothah," Merle said. "Make sure he knows what the hell he's s'posed ta be doin' when he's layin' it ta the Mouse tonight."

Merle smirked and walked up the driveway, passing Andrea as he went. She chuckled and shook her head a little as she followed behind him.

Some things never changed…at least not entirely.


	109. Chapter 109

**AN: OK, here you go. It's a little update for you. And it's a fluffy one…you know me! **

**For someone who asked, Ed has not disappeared and you didn't miss anything. I guess the best way I can explain pretty much how I try to write anything is think of it as sometimes we have the "zoom" on but it doesn't mean that other things aren't taking place. We're all just like the characters…still waiting to see what's going to happen with Ed's trial and everything wrapped up in that. It's just that in this waiting period our two main characters celebrated their nuptials so we've zoomed in on them for a bit. I promise, though, I haven't forgotten about Ed.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"So we married now," Daryl said to Carol about the time she got the door closed and locked. Carol turned around and nodded at him.

"We are…" she said.

Daryl was standing there, in the kitchen, gnawing on his thumb. Somewhere during the course of the day both of them had lost their shoes. Daryl had lost his tie and his jacket and had partially unbuttoned his shirt. Carol wasn't sure the state of her hair, but she had a pretty good idea that she'd lost at least some of the baby's breath that was in there and what wasn't lost was probably tangled into her curls not to be removed until she washed her hair.

"Now what do we do?" Daryl asked.

Carol chuckled at him. The truth was that she understood his sentiment even without him expressing it any further. On the one hand, they were married and it had been a big day…and it was supposed to be something super exciting and super new and that made a strange tension hang in the air. Yet on the other hand, nothing was much different than it had been before…they were still exactly the same as they had been before…the house was exactly the same as it had been except for the fact, perhaps, that the floors had seen more traffic today than usual.

It was strange to be trapped in the mundane with the expectation of the special.

"What do you want to do?" Carol asked. "It's our honeymoon. We can do what we want. There's no one here but Lincoln, and I don't think he'll tell us we're doing it wrong."

Daryl bit at his thumb a moment longer and pulled it away to inspect it before answering.

"Ya gon' be mad if I say the wrong thing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Carol laughed.

"I don't have any expectations at this point. There's no right or wrong," Carol said. It was true. She really didn't care what they did or how they did it. It wasn't like she was overwhelmed with the need for the rest of the evening to take shape in any particular way.

Daryl nodded his head slightly.

"Tell ya what I wanta do," Daryl said. "I wanta take a shower an' get outta these clothes. Then I wanta take ya ta bed."

Carol smiled.

"That sounds perfect to me," she said. "I don't think there could be a better set of honeymoon plans than that."

Daryl grinned at her and started to unbutton his shirt as he was already turning and heading toward the bedroom. Carol followed behind him, reaching around and trying to find where the hairclip hiding in her hair had run to during the day.

In the bedroom they both got out of their clothes at a relatively slow pace. Carol was pretty tired and she could tell from Daryl's movements and the way that his eyes looked that he was just about as exhausted as she was. She had no doubt that this would be a good night, but it looked like it was going to be a nice, low key one as well. Perhaps they were already a married couple at heart though, because she wasn't going to mind a quiet night and she got the feeling that Daryl wasn't going to mind it either.

Daryl started up the shower and when Carol came into the bathroom he was already in the tub, pushing the curtain back and offering a hand to her to help her step in. She stepped into the tub, directly under the warm water and couldn't help herself from moaning at the feel of it cascading down her.

"Tired?" Daryl asked.

"Mmmmhmmm…" Carol moaned, admitting her defeat at the hands of a very long day.

"Got an idea," Daryl said. "Might be silly, though."

"What?" Carol asked, moving to let him step under the shower spray.

"I'll wash you an' you can wash me," Daryl said.

Carol smiled and nodded.

"Sounds like a plan," she said. "Who's first?"

"I'll go first," Daryl said. "Don't get riled up about it or nothin' but'cha got black stuff 'round ya eyes that's kinda been smearin' a lil' bit all day an' I'd rather look at'cha when ya don't look like a raccoon."

Carol laughed. She thought that if anyone else had said that to her…or maybe even if Daryl had said it when she was in a different mood, she might be offended by the statement, but as it was issued, she understood that it was simply Daryl's way of saying what she already knew. He preferred her without make up…or at least with so little that he couldn't detect it. A small amount of mascara and some lip gloss was about as far as he seemed to think was necessary or even nice.

"OK," Carol said. "You take over, then…"

Daryl moved her under the water and she tried to help him a little through the process. He did let her wash her own face, at least, removing the make-up, so that he didn't was her eyes out accidentally. And she had to admit that though he paid special attention to sensitive areas when washing her body, it was washing her hair that got the most reaction from her. He massaged her scalp and ran his fingers through the wet tangle of hair in such a way that Carol thought she might actually go to sleep standing up…and though that probably wasn't the point of the exercise…she enjoyed it more than she cared to admit.

When Daryl was finally done washing her, she returned the favor, taking her time with him.

"You need a haircut," she said to him while she was reaching up and shampooing his hair.

"Don't I know it?" He responded back. "Shit's 'bout long as yours."

"I could cut it for you," Carol offered. "Not tonight…but in the morning. We'll take a chair out there under the carport and I'll cut it for you first thing."

"I ain't gon' turn ya down," Daryl responded.

When Carol had finished washing Daryl, she smirked at the fact that he'd very clearly enjoyed his bath. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him gently and kissing his chest.

"Should we just take care of this right here?" Carol asked. She didn't let up on her stroking, having already decided for herself what the answer to that question would be. Daryl must have assumed she knew the answer too because his only response was a series of groans as he reached around her, supporting himself with one hand on the wall of the shower. When he came, Carol eased around him, not wanting to disturb his afterglow moments, and rinsed herself off under the water where he'd cum on her. "Good?" She asked when he finally turned toward her, panting a little, and shaking some of the water out of his hair.

"Almost too damn good," Daryl said, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against him, kissing her. He held the kiss a minute and then finally broke apart. "Let's get outta here an' get dried off…an' we'll go ta bed."

"Mmm…kay," Carol agreed, hugging against him for a moment before letting up enough that he could turn off the water and they could both get out to dry themselves off.

Once they were out and dried off as well as it was going to get, neither of them really thought it was necessary to bother with even trying to find pajamas. Realistically they would be out of them faster than they'd be in them.

Daryl led Carol to the bed and pushed her down gently against it, licking at the water that dripped slightly down her neck from where she hadn't fully dried her hair. Carol smiled at him and ran her fingers through his damp hair, holding her head back enough for him to have better access. She slipped onto the bed after a moment and he joined her, taking his time and lazily licking and sucking at her body.

Carol was almost embarrassed at her own buildup of feelings. As Daryl licked and sucked, she thought that she might come just from that and he hadn't even reached her core yet. She let herself go, though, enjoying how much she was enjoying him, her fingers tangled in his hair for the most part.

And when Daryl finally made his way to her core, Carol felt herself falling over the edge without even asking his permission. She cried out as she came undone and closed her eyes tight, feeling the waves of electricity pass through her.

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Daryl had already realized that it wasn't going to be any great feat to get Carol to the point of coming…he hadn't expected, though, that she would come so hard or so let herself go so completely. When she cried out he continued to suckle at her, his fingers teasing her, though the sound of Lincoln barking in the living room, startled by the sound, almost made Daryl lose his concentration and laugh.

"Well I know ya feel better now," Daryl teased, coming up to kiss Carol's jaw and then bringing his lips to hers for a kiss.

She panted into his mouth, moving her body under him and he felt himself grow hard again when she raised up slowly, rubbing herself against him, her nails scratching softly at his back.

Daryl smiled at her. Her eyes were half closed with an obvious combination of exhaustion and lust. She looked trapped at the moment where she couldn't decide if she wanted to sleep more or have sex more, and Daryl could feel the same feeling inside of himself.

It had been a long day and he'd been stressed for most of it, so now that everything that was unwinding and the knots were coming untangled, it just seemed like his entire body was heavy with exhaustion. He moved himself, though, entering her without any more conversation passing between them than their eyes locking together.

He didn't imagine that she would mind the slow pace that he set for both of them. He was too tired for much more than that and what he wanted, more than anything else really, out of this entire thing was to be inside her…to be as close to her as he possibly could.

In the room there was silence except for the occasional moan that passed out the lips of one of their mouths. It was slow and it was easy and there wasn't any pressure for either of them to really impress the other. They'd had far more exciting couplings before…and they'd surely come together in far more creative ways…but Daryl wasn't looking for that and it seemed that Carol wasn't either.

She came first, a good bit before he was ready, and he moved his hand down between them to continue teasing her, finally soliciting another round from her at just the right moment for him to finish with her.

And when the pulled apart, Daryl wasn't really sure what they were supposed to do. He didn't know if honeymoons had special rules or not. He dropped beside her, leaning on his elbow, and tipped her face in his direction so that their tongues could meet and tangle together for a moment.

"Good?" He asked.

Carol hummed her confirmation and Daryl smiled at her, brushing her hair out of her face.

"What we s'posed ta do now?" He asked.

Carol smiled.

"We're not supposed to do anything, Daryl. We can do whatever we want," Carol said.

Daryl kissed her again and brought his hand down, teasing her nipple, though not really with any real goal in mind.

"I'm kinda tired," Daryl admitted.

"Me too!" Carol said, a little more excitedly than he'd expected. Daryl chuckled.

"Ya wore me out today," Daryl said. "I got worried ya weren't comin'."

Carol made a face at him.

"Of course I was coming," Carol said. "What would make you think I wasn't coming?"

Daryl shrugged a little and dropped down flat beside her so that both of them were looking up at the ceiling of the room. Carol etched over next to him and he put his arm out so that she could rest on it.

"I just figured somethin' was bound ta go wrong, ya know?" Daryl said.

"Mmm…" Carol responded. "I almost didn't find a dress that fit…that could have gone wrong."

Daryl chuckled.

"Hell woman, I'da married ya if ya'd have shown up in ya pajamas."

Carol laughed at him.

"Would you? Really?" She teased.

"Yep…even them sweatpants that'cha so damn fond of…the grey ones with the stains on 'em an' one a' them big ole shirts that'cha stole from Andrea…I'da still married ya an' thought'cha was perfect," Daryl said.

"We already had sex, Daryl," Carol teased. "You don't have to try to butter me up to get in my pants."

Daryl lifted his arm a little, spilling her toward him so that he could hug her slightly and she turned facing him more so that she could hug against him.

"Where did you get the rings?" Carol asked.

"Our fairy asshole," Daryl replied.

Carol leaned up a little, looking at him and giggling.

"What?" Where did they come from?" She asked.

"Merle…" Daryl said. He could tell by her facial expression that she believed it about as much as he had when his brother had dropped the rings into his hand. "Told him yesterday we ain't had no rings an' I wished we did an' he showed up with 'em today…said they was his weddin' present but he don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout it."

Carol lie back down and sighed.

"Who would have thought?" She said. "It's a beautiful gesture, Daryl."

"Just don't ever use the words beautiful and Merle in the same damn sentence an' we'll be alright," Daryl said with a chuckle.

Daryl was quiet for a moment, just lying there, absentmindedly looping a piece of Carol's hair around his finger while she rested against him.

"Gotta get mine cut down, though," Daryl said. "Can't be wearin' it no damn where really 'til I find someone that can cut it down or it's gonna fall slap off."

"Jeweler in town could size it for you," Carol said. "I think I'm going to wear mine on a chain, around my neck, until the baby comes."

"Why ya ain't wanna wear it?" Daryl asked.

"I do want to wear it," Carol said. "But my fingers are already a little bit swollen and it's going to get worse. I don't want to size it until I'm not pregnant."

Daryl picked up her hand and inspected it in the dimly lit room. He couldn't really see anything different about, but admittedly he didn't spend too much time closely examining Carol's hands.

He lifted it to his lips and he kissed it.

"If ya wanta wear it on a chain 'til after the baby's born, it's OK with me," Daryl said. "But as soon as ya hands get back ta normal ya gonna wear ya ring, OK? At least until we have another baby."

Carol giggled.

"Thank you…that's very considerate of you," Carol teased.

"I'm a damn considerate kinda man," Daryl said.

Carol leaned up then and brought her lips crashing down on his in a way that almost caught him off guard. He returned the kiss though, playfully nipping at her lips as she pulled away.

"Do you mind if we sleep?" Carol asked. "I know it hasn't been a very exciting honeymoon for you…"

Daryl smiled at her and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her back to him for a softer kiss than before.

"Reckon we got plenty a' time in our lives for havin' sex…we can call it whatever we wanta call it," Daryl said. "Let's get some sleep…might have a lil' good mornin' moon in the mornin'."

"That sounds good," Carol purred. She dropped beside him again and hugged up to him, rubbing her face into the pillow the way she always did when she was really tired.

"An' you can make me pancakes like a good wife…" Daryl added with a chuckle.

Carol playfully pinched his nipple and he protested, pretending that it hurt far more than it did. Finally, though, he decided to actually try and go to sleep.

"I love ya," Daryl whispered, hoping that Carol hadn't fallen asleep yet. "Mrs. Dixon."

When Carol didn't respond, Daryl bumped her. She didn't respond again and he bumped her again, knowing she had to feel him. After a second, though, her muffled giggle gave her away he knew she was failing at playing possum.

"I said I love ya…Mrs. Dixon…" Daryl repeated, laughter making his own voice shake a little as he tried to hold it back.

"I love you too, Mr. Dixon," Carol responded.

"That's more damn like it," Daryl said. "Go ta sleep, woman. We got things ta do in the mornin'."

"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" Carol teased, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Daryl rolled a little and kissed the side of her face, adjusting himself and the pillow so that he could sleep too without neither suffocating her nor abandoning her in the bed.

He couldn't believe they were married. He'd thought, somehow, that things would be at least a little different…at least something would change…but really all that had changed was how he felt. Now, as he lie there drifting off, he felt oddly more secure and more comfortable than he'd ever felt in his life. He had Carol…and he had her forever…and forever felt really good to Daryl.


	110. Chapter 110

**AN: Here's a little chapter for you, advancing some of the story lines along. I'll try to get a little something else out for you tomorrow night after work. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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As they were driving back to Michonne's house from the Wagon Wheel, Andrea was beginning to wonder what had come over Merle, or if it was even Merle that was driving the vehicle he'd borrowed from Tyreese.

Throughout dinner they hadn't talked too much, but when they had talked, it was the simple and easy conversation that could be had with Merle when he wasn't trying to prove any points and he wasn't trying to impress anyone with his surliness.

They'd kept the conversation, somewhat awkwardly, centered on Daryl and Carol. Andrea was afraid to enter into anything else for fear of what kind of dormant version of Merle it might awaken from wherever he had that side of himself tucked.

Merle seemed oddly moved that his brother had chosen to get married. He didn't even, for at least the time that they were out, speak of it as though Daryl had been trapped in the vicious metal bear trap that he normally painted marriage as. In fact, Andrea would have almost dared to say that Merle was pleased that Daryl was married, or at least that he had found something that he liked out of life.

Of course, Andrea already knew, though he never would have admitted it, that Merle had a large sweet spot that ran very deep for his brother. He enjoyed harassing the hell out of Daryl when he was given the chance, but there was no hiding at all that Merle considered Daryl one of the most important, if not the most important, person that had ever been in his life.

And he wanted him to be happy. And any fool could see that Carol made Daryl happy.

For all their problems and for all the little disagreements and such that they must pass through, anyone that knew Daryl and Carol felt like they just belonged together. Andrea would have felt corny and cliché if she'd tried to express her feelings on it, but she really felt the two of them completed each other in a way and they complimented each other as well.

And maybe Merle saw that.

The closer they got to Michonne's house, though, the more that Andrea wondered what in the world she was doing in Merle's company. What had she been thinking and what was she going to do now?

This Merle…the Merle that she'd had dinner with and the one that had attended Daryl's wedding and reception. This was the Merle that she knew, most of the time, in private. He was crusty and surly and from time to time had a smart ass comment or two for whoever would listen, but in private, when the walls went down, he didn't try as hard to fight against the world.

Andrea knew that her friends thought she was crazy sometimes for having tolerated Merle for as long as she had, but it would have been impossible to get them to understand that Merle…for all his bad points, and there were plenty of those…was a good man down deep inside, and she could see that. Down deep inside, Merle was a man that she knew she could care about deeply, though she wouldn't have dared to even think the word love.

The problem was, though, that Merle had decided long ago that he didn't need anyone. He thought that he tolerated Daryl, though that was obviously not the case, and he thought that's all he had to have in his life. Unlike Daryl, Merle never thought there was any beauty in finding "his other half" and living out the rest of his days with that person.

Or else he just didn't believe that anywhere out there was someone that would ever be his other half and be willing to live out the rest of his days with him, in which case it was easier just to keep everyone away and not deal with the disappointment each and every person may bring.

And somewhere along the line, Andrea had let herself think that maybe…just maybe…she was meant to be that other half. She'd thought that maybe if she showed Merle that someone out there could be just as alone as he thought he was…maybe he'd realize that he could drop the act and he could just accept the comfort of finding someone.

She liked the Merle that Merle was when he wasn't trying to be the persona that he created for himself…the problem really only came when he let himself get nervous about his situation.

When things started to go well for Merle, or he felt like they were going well, he sabotaged his own life. Better to hurt himself than to let anyone else hurt him. That was his motto.

That motto was what Andrea suspected had always kept Merle from admitting that he cared about her…because she believed that he did. If it felt easy, though…if it felt like they might be settling into something and it felt like forever might actually be a reality, then Merle got scared. The fear then, would make him bring out his persona, dust it off, parade it around, and allow it to run through his life and try to run off anyone or anything that frightened him.

And that was when Merle would remind her that she was nothing to him and that he didn't care about her at all. She could leave or she could stay and he wouldn't lose not one damn minute of sleep about it. He didn't care.

It was something that Andrea had heard time and time again, and not just from Merle. If there was a story of her life…that was the story of her life, and she knew it didn't exactly read like a bedtime story.

So she'd been able to ignore it for a while. She'd been able to swallow it when he threw it at her for no reason except his own insecurities showing their ugly faces. She'd tried to play his game and avoid ever saying she cared…avoid ever speaking about feelings…since those things would trigger the persona. And when the Merle that didn't care came out to play, she'd dealt with him.

But she'd finally left. She'd finally gotten tired of hearing it. Maybe it had been seeing Daryl and Carol together…maybe it was seeing Michonne and Tyreese…maybe it was just knowing that somewhere out there she wanted more than to spend the rest of her life trying to care for Merle while simultaneously trying to convince him that she didn't care so as to not startle him. She'd finally taken the offer when he said it was all the same to him if she left or if she stayed, and she left.

And now she was in the car with him, driving back toward Michonne's house where she'd spend the night so as to give the happy couple at least a little bit of privacy, and she was remembering exactly why it was that she cared for the Merle that most people never even got to see.

Seeing that Merle, though, had her concerned and had her battling with her own will. She wasn't going to roll over to Merle Dixon any longer. At some point he would have to either man up and accept that there was someone he cared about, someone who cared about him, and let them try to work toward finding something together, or she'd have to walk and see if she couldn't find something better.

Axel was something better…at least to some degree. He was a good man and he was kind to her. He was more than willing, if she gave him the notice, to admit any feelings that she needed to admit. He wanted a simple life and he wanted to spend it with someone, and he was just fine if it was her. For all intents and purposes, Andrea knew that she couldn't do much better than Axel. He was probably about as good a man as was ever going to cross her path…as good a man as she was ever going to find that was going to take her, baggage and all, and treat her like a princess.

Still, for as easy as it seemed…the whole idea of give up on Merle and take the prize she could find in Axel…there was something for Merle that she felt that she simply didn't feel for Axel. And she worried that whatever it was that she felt for him was going to always make her come back to the "what ifs" in life.

"What'cha so fuckin' quiet for?" Merle asked, snapping Andrea back into reality and away from her musings.

It wasn't like he'd exactly been a chatterbox himself, but she guessed that maybe she had been quieter than normal. How could she explain, though, especially to Merle, that she'd been sitting there the whole ride to the house, trying to decide what to do about him?

"Just been a long day," she offered. "I guess I'm tired."

Merle hummed something in the dark of the car. It was more a sound to fill the silence than anything that meant anything and Andrea knew it.

"Ya ready ta end this lil' night already?" Merle asked, after a moment.

"What did you have in mind?" Andrea asked. They'd closed down the Wagon Wheel and everything was closed by now. It was a week night and nine was pretty much closing time for everything except a couple of gas stations or convenience stores…unless of course they wanted to go and make a show at the Watering Hole.

Merle sucked his teeth and drummed his palms on the steering wheel. He snickered after a moment.

"Come back ta my place?" He asked. "Ya know ya miss me."

Andrea sighed.

She'd somehow felt that the entire evening was building up to this. She'd been building her resolved against it too. It wasn't that she had any problem with going back to his place…or that she couldn't just accept a night of random sex with someone if that's what she was in the mood for…but she didn't want that with Merle, not anymore.

She had missed him, though, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't. She wouldn't so much as let Axel get to third base and he'd really only barely made it to second despite his best efforts in a moment of weakness that she had here or there. Looking back through her life this was the longest dry spell she'd had since she started really having sex…instead of just having it in people's rumors.

"I don't think so, Merle," Andrea said after a minute. "I think we'd better just go through with the plan. It's better if you take me to Michonne's."

"Come on, sugar tits," Merle said. "Ya used ta be all damn big talk about how ya did what the hell ya wanted when the hell ya wanted it. Don't reckon ya lil' boyfriend's done driven ya ass ta be soft has he?"

Andrea rolled her eyes, though there wasn't the bite in Merle's voice that there normally would be there when delivering such a line.

"I haven't gone soft, Merle," Andrea said. "And I do what the hell I want to do when I want to do it. It just so happens that I don't want to go back to your place right now."

Merle drummed his hands again on the steering wheel.

"Why do you want me to come back to your place, Merle?" Andrea asked after a minute, feeling bold. "You just hard up for some ass or what?"

Merle chuckled.

"You the one that called it," Merle said.

Andrea could see Michonne's house just a few blocks away. If he was going to change her mind then he had very little space in which to do so.

"I'm serious," Andrea said. "If I came back to your place…what would you be expecting to happen?"

Merle chuckled again.

"Reckon ya know what the fuck would happen, Andrea…" Merle said.

"Tonight, maybe…" Andrea said. "And tomorrow?"

"Who the fuck is worried 'bout tomorrow when we talkin' 'bout makin' sweet music tonight?" Merle responded.

He pulled into the driveway and Andrea reached around into the back seat and plucked out the plastic grocery bag full of clothes she'd tossed back there earlier. She opened the door and Merle caught her arm, tugging her back toward him.

"Sure ya ain't wantin' ta come on back with ole Merle?" Merle asked.

Andrea swallowed. The door wasn't open wide enough to trigger the interior lights of the car, but Michonne had left the walkway light on and it illuminated the car enough for Andrea to see Merle's face. If she hadn't already made up her mind about the least that she would settle for, she might have gotten lost looking at him then.

She shook her head softly, smiling and knowing he'd be able to see it.

"Not tonight, Merle…maybe we can talk about it tomorrow," Andrea said. "Because I think it's time to start worrying about tomorrow more than just tonight."

Merle growled a little and let go of her arm. Andrea pushed the door open and took her grocery bag. She leaned back into the door.

"I had a good time, Merle," she said. "I hope we can do it again sometime."

Merle sucked his teeth and then smiled at her.

"I aim ta please, sugah," Merle responded.

Andrea nodded her head a little at him and backed up, closing the car door and making her way as quickly to the house as possible before she lost her resolve and went back, asking him to take her to his place. When she was finally inside, and safe from herself and her own habit of making poor choices, she locked the door and waited a moment just in the entrance hall of the house.

She sighed and started quietly down the hallway toward the bedroom she was staying in, careful not to wake any of the already sleeping occupants of the house. Maybe one day Merle would change and maybe one day he'd be willing to admit that he might like more out of life than just "tonight," but Andrea knew that it wasn't something that was going to happen quickly. Still, any step in the right direction, no matter how a small a step and how faltering, was a step.

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Michonne hung up the phone and sighed to herself. She got up out of her chair and picked up her coffee mug, slipping into the break room and refreshing the coffee before she slipped into her father's empty office and dug through his file cabinet in search of something sweet.

At least if the news she was carrying around sucked she could try to numb the pain with chocolate.

Michonne slipped out to the reception area of the offices. Everything was still and empty and unless they had some walk ins it was likely to stay that way for the rest of the day. There wasn't anything on the books.

Carol was sitting in the rolling chair behind the desk, her head leaned back and her eyes closed. Her overall aura matching the quiet peace of the office. Michonne disturbed her when she put her coffee mug down on the desk beside her and Carol sat up, smiling at her.

"Almost nothing going on today," Carol said. "You're not booked for anything for the rest of the day."

Michonne nodded.

"I've got a few things that I need to take care of," Michonne replied. "There's really not much, though. If you're bored you could take half a day."

Carol shook her head.

"I told your father that I'd organize some files for him," Carol said. "I'm going to start that in a few minutes. I need all the hours that I can get."

Michonne nodded at her. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell Carol what she had to say. Carol looked so happy right now…or if not happy exactly, she just looked peaceful and content. Michonne hated to be the one to break that for her, and there was no one else around that could take the dirty job.

Carol smiled at her, the way she normally did when a comfortable silence fell between them.

"Carol," Michonne started, figuring it was now or never, "I need to talk to you but I want you to try to keep things in perspective."

The panicked look that hit Carol's face let Michonne know that Carol was already not keeping things in perspective and it also reminded her that she'd never been very good with giving bad news to anyone.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked.

"I just got off the phone with Rick Grimes," Michonne said. "He was just up at county and picking up…well the latest news or what have you. Ed's trial finished…he's out in a week…as soon as everything finishes processing."

Carol covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the desk, quiet. Michonne had thought that she might cry about it, but for the moment there weren't any tears. She was in shock, maybe, or processing things. It was hard to tell in this situation what the woman might be going through.

"We don't know that he's coming back to Sweet Junction," Michonne said. "There's really nothing here for him…his family isn't here. His business was liquidated…everything he owned was liquidated. There's no reason really for him to come back here."

Michonne had spent at least a half hour in her office after she got off the phone with Rick simply trying to make everything as fine and worry free for herself as she could. She wasn't sure she believed herself entirely, but she needed to believe herself, and right now she needed to convince Carol of that which she wasn't sure was even true.

Carol shook her head a little, her hand still covering her mouth, and then she finally dropped her hand. Her eyes were wide, but there were still no tears.

"He'll come back…" Carol said. "He'll come back for me."

Carol hit her feet after a moment and paced somewhat nervously away from Michonne and toward the back of the office area, her hand going back over her mouth and the other coming to rest on her hip.

"He'll kill me this time…" Carol said.

Michonne thought that the scariest thing about the phrase was how calmly Carol uttered it. She might as well have been saying that she was out of milk or the copy machine was jammed yet again.

"No…no…" Michonne answered. "He's not coming near you, Carol. Even if he does come back to Sweet Junction. He's not coming near you and he's not going to lay a hand on you. He'll still have a restraining order…"

Carol turned around quickly and chuckled a little.

"And that does so much good! It was amazing how hard it was for him to walk through the last one," Carol said. "It almost…it almost slowed him down a little."

"I know that things didn't turn out the best before," Michonne said, "but we're not going to let anything happen. Ed won't get to you. He'll be drummed out of town before that happens. Everyone here…they know now what kind of animal Ed was. It's no secret anymore. And you, and me, and Andrea…we're all going to take a weekend and we're all going to do concealed weapons training with Rick. You're not going to be Ed's victim anymore."

Carol nodded. She stopped pacing and stood still a moment. Michonne wasn't sure how to read her facial expression or the way that she was acting in the slightest. The best that she could guess that was going on was shock. At least that's what she suspected.

"I need to start on those files," Carol said. "I can probably finish them before closing time if I start now…"

Yep, Michonne thought, this had to be some kind of manifestation of shock. She considered, for a moment, telling Carol that she could go home or even that she should go home. Maybe she needed to be in her little nest…her carefully constructed safe haven. After a moment's thought, though, Michonne decided that sitting her father's office and mindlessly organizing files where Michonne could keep an eye out for her might be the best place for Carol.

"Why don't you do that?" Michonne asked. "I'll have lunch delivered. Anything in particular you think you'd like?"

Carol looked at her, her hand going back over her mouth, but making no other movements. After a second she shook her head slightly.

"Anything's fine," she said.

Michonne picked up her coffee cup and stepped out of the way, allowing a clear passage from Carol's little space into the hallway and her father's office beyond that.

"Then why don't you start on the files? I'll be in my office if you need anything…and I'll let you know when lunch is here," Michonne said.

Carol smiled slightly and awkwardly made her way through the space. Michonne stood back and watched until she knew that Carol was settled in the often unused office. Michonne started back to her own then, peeking through the door to see Carol settling into the mindless work, and then continuing back to her desk. She'd order lunch, just as she had said she would, but first she was getting ahold of Daryl and giving him a head's up on the situation. If anyone was going to be able to handle Carol…or if anyone was going to feel the aftermath of when the shock wore off…it was going to be Daryl, and Michonne figured he might, in true Daryl fashion, need the rest of the hours that the workday would offer him to prepare.


	111. Chapter 111

**AN: Here's another little chapter for you guys! **

**As always, thank you for your comments and reviews. You guys overwhelm me with the thought that you've stuck with me so far and you're still so excited about what we've got coming. (I'm really glad, though, because I love the story and it's exciting to share it with other people who love it too!)**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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Carol came through the door and absentmindedly went through her routine of letting Lincoln out in the yard. As soon as she let him out, though, she turned around and walked back to the door, locking it. Daryl and Andrea both had keys. They could let themselves in, but she needed to start training herself to keep the doors locked and not assume that the next person to walk in unannounced would be someone that was welcome in her space.

Carol stripped out of her clothes, changing into her sweatpants and one of the oversized t-shirts that she was pretty sure Andrea had stolen from Merle and she'd later stolen from Andrea out of the wash. She let Lincoln back in and went directly to the couch after giving him his bone, collapsing down on it. Lincoln, seeing the opportunity for snuggles, immediately joined her, forcing her to scrunch as much against the back of the couch as she could to give him space to settle down with a sigh beside her.

So Ed was getting out of prison. It was done and just like that someone had decided that he didn't deserve to be behind bars…not for what he'd done.

And Carol wasn't sure how she felt about it. She felt like she had too many feelings about the whole thing to even begin to process them all. As Michonne had said, they weren't sure that Ed would come back to Sweet Junction. Rationally there was nothing for him in the quiet little town.

Irrationally, though, Carol knew that Ed felt like he owned her. He'd always felt like she was something he possessed and therefore could do with her as he pleased. He'd been furious when she left and that was part of the reason for his attack against her. She didn't pretend to believe that during his short stint in prison he had changed and just decided to let her go and let bygones be bygones. Ed wouldn't come back to Sweet Junction because he felt any connection or any softness for the town. Ed would come back for revenge against her.

And Philip Blake hadn't made things any better in the courtroom. In building a story that would make the jury feel sorry for Ed…would make them feel like anything he'd done could possibly be justified in any way…he'd reinforced all the things that made Ed furious with her.

She'd been painted as the scarlet woman by Blake. Her open and well-known affair with Daryl, even though it was something that happened during her separation from Ed, was painted as something that no one really knew if she was being honest about or not. Perhaps the affair had gone on before that and fueled Ed's suspicions…maybe she'd been the one to bring the Dixons to town even…and maybe there had been affairs before.

Philip Blake knew she was pregnant too…even though most of Sweet Junction still didn't know it for sure, after all she wasn't showing that clearly and she hadn't confirmed it for too many of the gossips, Blake had found out about it. He'd been sure to point it out too…that she was carrying the child conceived of her affair.

Carol shuddered to herself when she thought about the fact that Philip Blake had actually made a statement, one which she'd objected but was stricken, that she and Ed had lost a child together and it had been a difficult "spot" for Ed after that they had no children.

It was irrelevant to the case and she'd been relieved that the other lawyer had pointed out that he objected to the facts, given that the child she carried now would not have been in question at the time that Ed supposedly lost his judgment and attacked her and Andrea both…but Blake had kept the idea planted that Ed was grief stricken over the loss of his own possible family and that had only been one more little piece in the puzzle as to why he had so thoroughly "come undone" that night.

Carol had no doubt that Ed would be back. Philip Blake was right about one thing…Ed was crazy and his actions and his feelings toward her weren't those of a well man…but she didn't feel any longer that it was her fault. At one time, yes, she had shouldered the blame and swallowed up all the times that Ed told her that everything he did was because she was terrible and horrible and she drove him to act the way he did. She'd eaten up every single bite of criticism that he'd fed her and she'd learned to hate herself for it.

But Daryl let her know, each and every day in one way or another, that it just wasn't true. Ed was wrong. If it had been Carol all along…if she was so horrible and so much a bane to the existence of mankind, then Daryl wouldn't care for her the way that he did.

She knew that she drove Daryl crazy at times, and she got on his nerves and there were arguments between them, but they were just being human. Nothing between them was one sided. Nothing was purely his fault and it wasn't purely her fault. They were just two imperfect humans learning how to come together and live with each other.

And now there was another life to consider.

Carol reached down and tugged the tail of the t shirt up, examining the little evidence of a belly that she had. She often did this when she was alone so that no one would judge her for repeatedly looking at it and repeatedly searching for the visual evidence of her daughter. She still wasn't sure if she'd felt the little thing move or not…there were so many things that she felt regularly that she wasn't sure if it was the baby or not…and she was simply hungry for something to be there for her as a regular reminder and regular assurance that the little girl was there and she was happy and healthy in her little nest.

Carol ran her fingers across her own skin, over the belly that she knew was there, even if it wasn't impressive.

"I don't know if you can hear me or not," Carol said softly. "And I don't know if you're sleeping or if you're awake…or what you do in there…but I'm your Mommy."

Carol felt a little silly and she felt her cheeks burn a little, though there was no one there to judge her except for Lincoln and he was snoring softly, completely unaware that she was even awake beside him. Her book said that she could talk to the baby, and that she even should talk to it, but she hadn't as of yet, feeling silly every time she considered doing so.

She wanted to talk to her, though…she wanted to feel as connected to her as she possibly could, and now was as good a time as any if Daryl wouldn't be home for a bit, and neither would Andrea, and no one would be there asking her to explain why she was talking to her own stomach and acting insane.

Carol swallowed and continued with her little conversation, trying not to let herself feel too silly.

"Mommy has made some very bad decisions in her life…and she's met some bad people. You don't need to know about bad people, though…not yet. Because she's not going to let them hurt you. I love you and your Daddy loves you…and Lincoln loves you too, even though he doesn't know it yet. He's good with babies, though, and he's going to love you when he sees you. And you've got a great big family out here and they're going to be excited when you get here."

Carol leaned her head back now, on the arm of the chair, feeling a little more relaxed with the talking.

"You've got me and your Daddy. You've got your Grandpa Hershel and your Grandma Jo…you'll like them. They're sweet and they'll probably be the kind to give you cookies and candy and things when I tell you that it'll spoil your dinner," Carol said, continuing the methodical stroking on her stomach.

She yawned and turned just a little, settling into her space better and feeling Lincoln sag against her, groaning slightly at the disturbance.

"Your Aunt Michonne…well she's a little neurotic, but we don't tell her that. And by the time you get here she'll be married to your Uncle Tyreese and you've got two cousins that aren't too much older than you. They'll be able to show you the ropes. And there's your Aunt Andrea. She might still be living with us when you get here, but it's OK…she'll love you and you'll like having her here. She'll probably let you sleep in her room and stay up late watching movies with her. And your Uncle Merle…well…I don't know what to say about your Uncle Merle…but I'm sure he'll do great. Just never, ever repeat anything you hear him say."

Carol yawned again and snuggled her head against Lincoln's.

"You've got a lot of love waiting on you out here, Lil' Bit," she said, using the pet name that Daryl had adopted over the past few days to refer to the baby. "And none of us are going to let anything happen to you. Don't you worry about that. No one is going to bother you at all."

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Daryl got home a little earlier than he normally would have. Michonne had told him that Ed was getting out of prison in a week and she told him that she'd given the news to Carol.

Daryl didn't know how he expected Carol to react exactly, but he didn't expect her to take the news well. They'd only been married a couple of days…they had a baby on the way…the last thing they really needed was Ed Peletier at large in the small town they lived in and set on causing trouble.

Daryl hadn't even figured out how he felt about it now or what he was going to do about it. His gut made him want to do something crazy. It made him want to find the man the minute he was released from prison and kill him, point blank. It made him want to things he'd seen in the movies…things that real people didn't do…like find a place to hide the body and successfully get away with some murder that would assure that the asshole never touched his wife ever again…but the truth of the matter was that those things happened only on television and not in Sweet Junction.

He might not be able to kill Ed Peletier…not with his bare hands and not just as the man tasted freedom again…but he would kill him if he so much as touched Carol. Daryl would beat him to death with his bare hands if he had to…and let them try and say that it wasn't self-defense or, really, defense of Carol. That he might be able to get away with…but he didn't want the man even getting close enough to her for the whole even to merit Daryl testing his somewhat doubtful abilities to beat another human being literally to death.

He didn't want Ed anywhere near her. He wanted the man to just take his freedom and run with it. Michonne had said that it was possible that Ed wouldn't return to the town, and anything was a possibility perhaps, but it wasn't one that Daryl thought was too promising. He was a crazy man and crazy people rarely just up and lost their crazy one day.

Still, at the moment Daryl didn't feel like he had time to process all he felt or all he thought about Ed. He needed to find Carol and check on her. He needed to make sure that she was OK and that she knew that he would figure this out…they would figure this out…and she'd be safe. Ed wasn't going to hurt her and he wasn't going to take their baby away from them. The boogeyman might be back in the closet, but he wasn't going to ruin their lives.

When Daryl tried the handle on the wooden door, he found it locked. For a moment he stopped, confused, because the door was always unlocked when one of them was home and Carol's truck indicated that she was already home.

Michonne had called him when Carol left. She said that she seemed oddly fine, but Michonne suspected it might be shock or something that was keeping her from reacting. For that reason Daryl hadn't worked the extra hour that he'd intended to work and had chosen, instead, to request the chance to make sure that Carol was alright. Of course, Hershel had more than understood since everyone had been on high alert and was just waiting to hear the results of Ed's trial.

Daryl quickly realized, though, that Carol had probably locked the door for protection and he smiled to himself, pleased that she had her mind about her enough to think about things like locking the door as being important, even if they weren't part of her normal habits. Ed wouldn't get out for a week, but it was never too soon to start training yourself to expect his sorry ass to pop up somewhere like a fucking demented Jack in the Box.

Daryl dug around in his pocket and pulled his keys back out, finding the one to the door and letting himself in. Lincoln didn't greet him at the door and he closed it quickly, locking it, and glancing around to figure out where their ankle high welcome wagon was.

He found Lincoln quickly, though, dead to the world and snoring loudly on the couch beside Carol…who also happened to be snoring, though she didn't like to believe that it was something that she'd started doing as of late.

Daryl shook his head. He'd run home, almost in a panic, and sure that she was going to be losing her mind crying and screaming, and as Michonne had somewhat hinted, maybe even thinking of something more drastic. And here she was, curled up on the couch with the dog, fast asleep.

Daryl sighed.

At least she was asleep. Honestly he'd rather walk in to find that scene any day than walk in to find what he'd been creating for himself on the drive home. Daryl got out of his shoes quietly and went through the house to the bedroom to change his clothes and get comfortable. He slipped back down the hall to the living room afterwards and hovered over her.

Carol and Lincoln both were so crammed together that he knew they couldn't be comfortable, but if you wanted to sleep on the couch that was the price that you paid. Lincoln had a strict couch sleeping policy…nobody sleeps alone.

Carol was snoring softly, her mouth somewhat open. One of her hands was resting on her stomach and the other was hung, in an odd sort of way that he was sure was going to be uncomfortable later, over her face somehow. He didn't want to wake her up, but he didn't want to leave her where she was going to wake up with one arm dead and killing her.

Daryl leaned over and gently caught her wrist between his finger and thumb, trying to move the arm so that she could rest with it down.

Asleep like that Carol didn't even look to him to be old enough to be married to him. She looked like she was still a child when she slept. She looked so sweet and so innocent. Daryl smiled at her.

It made him even angrier when he thought about it, then, seeing her there like that. He knew what Ed had done to her all those years, but it was something that he tried to put out of his mind. If he didn't keep it out of his mind then it would surely drive him crazy. He was infuriated by the thought that anyone would ever put their hands on her to hurt her. It would never happen again, though, and he'd be sure of that.

As Daryl maneuvered Carol's arm around, bumping Lincoln in the head and soliciting a loud moan that the dog usually issued to let you know that whatever you were doing was disturbing his most important nap of the hour, Carol woke up, jerking a little and gasping.

"Easy woman," Daryl said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just me…ya all tied up here an' when ya get up from this lil' siesta ya takin' ya gonna feel like ya lost the use of ya arm if ya don't at least lay it down somewhere."

Carol looked at him, blinking, and Daryl knew that she was only partially awake, but she was working on coming into consciousness and being fully aware of her surroundings.

"Daryl?" She said. Daryl knew it wasn't a sincere question, at least not really, it was more one of those first things you say when you're shocked into waking up.

He smiled and leaned over, kissing her forehead.

"Yeah, it's me," he said. "You can finish ya nap…I didn't mean ta wake ya up. I'ma make us somethin' for dinner."

"I can fix something," Carol offered, starting to wake up. She yawned.

"I bet'cha could," Daryl said. "'Cept I'm gonna do it an' you gonna stay right here an' finish out'cha nap. Now I ain't meant ta wake ya up so go back ta sleep."

Despite his protests, though, Carol sat up. She disturbed the dog and Daryl felt guilty for having disturbed her. He had thought he was doing the right thing, but now he knew that the next time he walked on her having a little impromptu nap he wasn't going to do anything more than cover her with the blanket from the back of the couch and leave her be until she decided to get up on her own.

"Lay back down," he commanded.

"Stop, Daryl," Carol protested. "It's fine. I don't need to take a nap right now anyway. I won't sleep as good tonight."

Carol sat on the couch and stretched and yawned.

"Fine," Daryl said. "But I'm still cookin'."

Carol chuckled.

"I think I can be convinced to let you do that," she responded.

Daryl turned then and went into the kitchen, burrowing through the refrigerator to see what they had defrosted. In victory he smiled at the pack of hamburger meat that was in there.

"Hamburger steaks good?" He asked.

"Can we have fries to?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled. Carol loved to eat more now than she'd ever loved to eat before. She always had some special request for food, but Daryl didn't mind.

"Depends on if there's potatoes," he admitted.

"There are," Carol said, yawning loudly again. "Andrea bought some."

"Then I reckon I can fry them suckers up," Daryl said. "Andrea'll just have ta buy some more."

Daryl got started cooking. He didn't know when and how they were going to talk about Ed and he was somewhat dreading the conversation. He figured, like Michonne said, that Carol was probably in some sort of shock and it hadn't sunk in for her yet. It wasn't real to her yet that Ed was going to be out from behind the bars that kept him securely locked in her nightmares.

And Daryl didn't know if it was going to sink in to her today or tomorrow, or even a week from now, but he was worried about when it did sink in. He knew they could get through it and it was just a thing that she was going to have to deal with, but he knew that she was going to be upset and it tore him apart to see her upset when there was nothing that he could do to fix it…and this wasn't something he was even responsible for.

Daryl turned a little as he was frying up the hamburger steaks and heard Carol shuffling into the kitchen, dragging her sock feet on the floor. She was tired. That much was evident. It wasn't just the residue sleepiness from the nap. Even if she wasn't reacting like she was emotionally incensed, it was written all over her face that she was exhausted and it was probably from what her mind was doing to her emotionally.

"Why don't'cha go lay down?" Daryl asked. "I'll even bring ya supper when it's ready an' we can watch somethin' on t.v. that'cha wanna watch."

Carol shook her head.

"I don't mind the t.v. and the dinner in the living room, but I'm fine standing up," Carol said.

She leaned against the counter near him and silently watched him as he worked. A few times he heard her breath puff out as though she was going to say something, but she didn't. Daryl didn't push it. This…none of this that had to do with Ed at the moment…was not going to be something that he pushed about at all. He was going to let her handle it her way…the way that was most suiting to her needs.

"Daryl," Carol said finally.

"Yea, baby?" Daryl asked.

"Don't think I'm crazy…but…" Carol started and hesitated.

"What's up?" Daryl asked.

"I think I felt the baby," Carol said. "Like I think I really felt her."

Daryl stopped what he was doing for a moment and then chuckled to himself. Carol immediately looked sore when he glanced at her, though, and he realized she thought he was laughing at her.

"I ain't laughin' at'cha," Daryl said, seeing her facial expression. "At least not really."

The truth was that he was laughing at the fact that he was waiting for her to have a nervous breakdown about Ed and it hadn't even sunk in deep enough for her that she was wanting to talk about it. She just wanted to talk about the baby.

Carol looked at him, but didn't respond. She frowned and Daryl chuckled again.

"Why would I think ya crazy, anyway?" Daryl asked, deciding to try to save his own ass after her chuckled when it was clearly not appropriate. "We know she's in there rollin' around…didn't'cha figure ya was gonna feel her soon?"

"What if I didn't though?" Carol asked. "What if I just wanted to…so I thought I did…and it's just my imagination? Then I could technically be kind of crazy…and I don't know if I made it up or not."

Daryl chuckled again, unable to help himself. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, ignoring the pout on her face.

"Carol…I don't think ya crazy an' I don't think it was ya imagination…so there. No matter what anyone else says ya felt her. Doc said she was a mover an' a shaker an' ya felt her. Plain an' simple," Daryl said.

He shook his head and stifled another chuckle as he continued cooking.

"What's so funny?" Carol asked. "Are you still laughing at me?"

"I weren't never laughin' at'cha," Daryl said. "I was just thinkin' ya was gonna be…well maybe a lil' bit upset…an' I weren't thinkin' it was gonna be 'cause ya thought ya psyched yaself out over whether or not ya can feel the baby move. I guess I just was expectin' somethin' bad."

Carol turned, leaning her back against the counter now and propping her elbows up. She sighed.

"You mean you thought I was going to be upset about Ed," Carol responded.

Daryl moved the pan off the eye of the stove, feeling satisfied that the patties were ready. He needed to go in search of the potatoes, but first he turned his attention to Carol. He stepped in front of her, reaching his arms out and pulling her toward him in a hug. Her arm wrapped around him and she rubbed her face against the t shirt he was wearing.

"Whenever ya decide ya wanna talk about it, it's fine," Daryl said. "I just don't want'cha thinkin' that'cha gotta be upset all on ya own, OK?"

Carol squeezed him in response and Daryl faked a choking sound that made her giggle and scrub her face against him again. She sighed but didn't let go of him.

"I might want to talk about it later," Carol said. "But right now there's not much to talk about."

Daryl rubbed his hands up and down her back.

"We in this together. I ain't gon' let him bother ya," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled a little.

"Whether or not he bothers me doesn't really matter too much," Carol said. "I'm not letting him hurt the baby, though."

Daryl squeezed her slightly.

"Don't'cha worry 'bout that neither," Daryl said. "Ed Peletier ain't gonna do a damn thing to a single fuckin' Dixon 'round these parts an' that's all the hell there is to it. Ya hear me, woman?"

Carol pulled away and looked up at Daryl, a soft smile on her face and her eyes obviously heavy lidded from whatever fatigue she was storing up. Daryl hoped she slept like the dead tonight. He'd call in sick for her to Michonne if he had to, but she looked like she needed it if she could get it.

"I love you," Carol said.

Daryl smiled and dipped his head, kissing her softly.

"Love ya too," Daryl said. He dropped his hand between them and gently rubbed her stomach. "Both of ya."

Carol hugged him again and he rubbed her back for a second before pulling away.

"Go back an' lay down," Daryl said. "See if ya can't get Lil' Bit wigglin' 'round for ya some more an' figure out what we gonna watch. I'ma get these fries done right up an' we gon' have us a good supper."

Carol nodded at him and started quietly out of the kitchen to go back into the living room.

Daryl went in search of the potatoes so that he could finish up dinner. At least on the outside Carol was holding this together, and Daryl knew that one way or another their little family would make it through this. Ed Peletier had done all the damage to them that he was going to do. They weren't going to let him ruin what they had.


	112. Chapter 112

**AN: It's late here, so please forgive the probable multitude of problems. I wanted to get you out something, though, so we can keep on going with our story! **

**I didn't get a chance with everything going on to respond to each and every one of you from the last chapter, but as always, I appreciate your reviews and comments. I'm glad that everyone likes how sweet our Daryl is now that he's happily settling into married life and potential future fatherhood. I think it looks good on Daryl! **

**Also, I know we all hate Ed…we'll just have to see what happens there…**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol was with Michonne doing some kind of girly shit that Daryl hadn't had much interest in. It involved Michonne's wedding and the baby, and frankly only one of those interested Daryl at all and still there was much about the baby that he was more than willing to leave in the hands of the women around him.

So he was down at the Water Ho, sitting with his wayward ass big brother, while Andrea worked the place with Loretta and ignored them both for the most part, only passing ever now and again to lean on the bar, make sure they didn't need anything, and swap some small piece of idle chitchat.

The regular crowd for a Wednesday night was in there…and it was pretty much the regular crowd for most any night. The same fuckers day after day. Daryl didn't mind coming in there every now and again, especially when Carol was busy with something else or she and Andrea were at their hair classes, but he wondered how fucking sad their lives must be when the fuckers that were in there night after night saw the hole in the wall place as damn near their home.

Then of course there was Merle…and he was damn near one of those fuckers…but Daryl had a pretty good idea how sad Merle's life was, and it was evident that it was wearing on his brother. Daryl getting married had obviously flipped some kind of switch in Merle. He was more mellow than he'd ever been before, but there was something sad there.

Maybe it's because he was the only fucking Dixon alive that they still knew about who hadn't moved on from the outdated idea that Dixons didn't a single damn person.

Maybe it was the realization that Daryl was married now…he had a family of his own…and though that didn't count Merle out completely, it did somewhat change the structure of their relationship. Maybe Merle was realizing that they'd had their final hoorah already, and Daryl wasn't coming back to the lifestyle of shoveling their shit around in taped together cardboard boxes, following Merle's ass from one sorry location to another while they tried to outrun a life that was trying to run them over.

Or maybe it was just that Merle fucking missed Andrea and that was as obvious as the nose on his face.

It really could have been any of those things, or all of them all at once. Daryl wasn't really sure the cause, but it was evident that his brother was different. The Merle that sat beside him, occasionally chatting, but mostly sitting quietly and staring at the dusty shelf of liquor directly in front of them on the wall, was not the Merle who might have sat there a year ago and entertained half the damn bar with his stories about pussy chasing and punching people in the fucking mouth.

Though the change was drastic, and though Daryl wished his brother wasn't so damn down about whatever it was, he had to admit that mellow Merle was a Merle that he enjoyed being around a hell of a lot more than the one that was always being an asshole. Daryl only wished that he could guarantee that if they figured out how to fix whatever the fuck was Merle's problem, they could also count on the fact that he would never fully return to the shithead he'd once been. There weren't any guarantees in life, though.

Daryl had his own problems, though, and he was somewhat sharing them with Merle while they both shared a dusty bottle of bitter tasting whiskey.

"I don't get how the fucker's loose, though," Merle said. "Son of a bitch would have killed Carol and Andrea both. How the fuck they justify his ass runnin' fuckin' free?"

Merle was only just now really sinking into the realization that Ed was out. If Michonne was right, he'd been released this morning, actually, and that meant that the fucker could pop up any damn time he pleased.

"Ya know," Daryl said, "if ya had ya head out'cha ass more often ya'd already know what the fuck's been goin' on with Ed…and with every damn one a' us."

Merle looked at him out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything.

Daryl sighed and gnawed at his thumb. The only reason he was here tonight instead of at home was because Carol was with Michonne and had insisted that she was fine and that he should go and do something more interesting than keep them company while they basked in all their glow over all they had planned to do and talk about. Michonne had promised him that she wouldn't let Carol out of her sight, except for to go to the bathroom…which she did with extreme frequency, and so he'd left them alone. Otherwise, though, he wouldn't have dared to leave her in the house unguarded.

Carol was still strangely calm about the whole thing, though. Daryl hadn't pushed her to talk about it and she hadn't seemed to want to talk about it. She hadn't seemed too much affected by it in the least, really. He would have been concerned if he felt like she was hiding something, but it really seemed to him that she simply wasn't letting it bother her…or either it wasn't real to her yet.

Daryl hoped it never became real to her. He hoped there was never any reason for it to be real. He kept his fingers crossed that somehow Ed would move on and they'd never see him or hear from him again, but he couldn't really convince his brain that's how the hell this whole damn thing would go down.

"I don't know what the fuck ta do about it, Merle…" Daryl said.

He might have hesitated at one time to talk to his brother and admit that he was scared shitless…but even if Merle called him a pussy about it, right now it wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest. If being scared that Ed was going to do something…that he was going to hurt Carol or hurt the baby…was being a pussy, then Daryl could admit he was the biggest damn pussy in the world.

"Hell lil' brothah, ain't shit'cha can do," Merle said. "Ya ain't the damn president of the U.S. of A. Fuckers let Ed's ass go, so now he's gone…all there is to it."

"Ya think that's all there is to it, huh?" Daryl echoed. "Merle that fucker ain't gone. He's far from fuckin' gone. And this is my damn wife an' kid I'm talkin' 'bout. If he done somethin' ta Carol…" Daryl hesitated. "I'd lose my fuckin' mind."

Merle bit at his bottom lip, his eyes set momentarily on the shelf in front of them, but Daryl knew he really wasn't looking at that shit. After a moment, Merle looked at the bottle of whiskey and slid it in Daryl's direction.

"Fuck, Daryl," Merle said. "Have a drink an' loosen up the damn knot'cha got in ya chain. We don't even know where the hell that fat fucker is."

Daryl poured himself a shot and downed it quickly. He refilled the glass, but left it there on the bar. At least Andrea was driving them home so he didn't have to worry about it.

Daryl sighed.

He knew that worrying about Ed wasn't going to make a damn bit of difference. Merle was right. They didn't know where the fucker was at the moment. He could be just outside, leaning in the shadows some damn where and waiting to get his hands on Andrea again…waiting to finish what he started there. Or he could be waiting to kick Merle and Daryl's asses outside of Merle's apartment. Hell, he could be outside Michonne's house peeking through the damn windows and planning some shit.

The not knowing was going to drive Daryl bat shit crazy just as quick as if something happened.

Daryl took another shot and refilled his glass. For the first time in a long time he hoped that the amber colored liquid could do something magical to numb all the damn feelings he had. They weren't feelings that he wanted to share with Carol. If she wasn't freaked out, then he sure as hell didn't want to be the one to tell her that she should be flipping a shit because Ed was out and he might just try to fuck every damn thing up. And even if she was freaked out, Daryl didn't want her to know that he was. Hell, he was supposed to be protecting her. He was the one trying to tell her that one damn way or another they'd work this shit out. Michonne told him that stress was bad for Carol right now…was bad for the baby…and Daryl didn't want to be responsible for bringing it on her.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"He could come after our asses too, ya know. Could be pissed at'cha for fuckin' him up an' goin' after him…" Daryl said, trying to see if Merle was really even listening to him.

Merle chuckled.

"I wish the fucker _would_ come after me," Merle said. "Hell, I'd let him get a swing in. First one's on me for the fat fuck…then I got me an excuse to grind his sorry ass inta the dirt. Fuck him up real nice 'cause I was defendin' myself…see? I was real damn scared a' his pathetic ass…had ta fuckin' kill him 'til I weren't scared no more."

Daryl chuckled. Yep, Merle was listening to him. And for all that might have mellowed about Merle in the past little bit…there was still much of Merle that burned just as hot underneath the surface.

"Could go after Andrea, too," Daryl said. "She tried ta fuck with him…he ain't likely ta forget that shit neither."

Merle sucked his teeth and took another shot. He looked around and caught Andrea's attention by waving his hand at her. She made a gesture that she'd be there in a minute and Merle turned back around, not saying anything.

When Andrea came, a few minutes later, carrying a tray of dirty glasses and discarded bottles which she dropped with a clang on the edge of the bar for sorting through in the back a little later, Merle reached out and caught her by the upper part of the arm.

"What do you want, Merle?" Andrea asked, not pulling away yet.

"Listen here, sugar tits," Merle said. "Fuckin' Ed Peletier might be wanderin' his sorry ass 'round Sweet Junction."

Andrea chuckled and shot a look in Daryl's direction.

"Yeah," she said. "I got the memo…most of the town knows, Merle. Ain't like this place is a locked vault of secrets or nothing."

Merle chuckled a little…more the strained chuckle that he did when he wasn't really amused at something but wanted to fake that he was. Daryl knew the sound well and he assumed that Andrea probably did too. It was one of Merle's signals that he was out of bullshit for the moment.

"Don't'cha go fuckin' wanderin' 'round on ya own, ya hear?" Merle asked. "Ya stick ya ass ta some damn body…ta Carol…ta Daryl…ta me…ta ya fuckin' lil' boyfriend even. Don't give two fucks who but'cha better stick to 'em like ya fuckin' Siamese twins."

Andrea looked at Merle, all the humor having left her face and then she rolled her eyes in Daryl's direction and let her gaze settle on him for a second before returning it to Merle who was staring at her intently.

"Wasn't planning on taking Ed on, if that's what you mean," Andrea said. "I think I know how to take care of myself. It's been a long damn time since I needed a babysitter."

"Ya damn well better have one now," Merle responded. "If the fucker wants a fight then he's gonna get one, but he don't need ta be findin' you nor Carol all by yaselves an' actin' like ya too damn big for ya britches."

Andrea pulled her arm loose from Merle then and heaved up the tray.

"Ed Peletier isn't going to mess with me," Andrea said. "And I'm not stupid."

She took the tray in her arms and headed back toward the back of the bar from which she would reemerge once she'd cleaned the tray.

Daryl glanced at Merle.

"Why don't'cha just say ya worried 'bout her?" Daryl asked.

Merle rolled his eyes again in Daryl's direction and served himself another shot which he tossed back quickly, sucking his teeth and hissing in air after he swallowed.

"She'll keep her ass in check," was his only response.

A few minutes later Daryl's attention was snatched to the other side of the bar when he heard someone call his name rather quietly for the usual din of the Water Ho.

Axel had slipped in unnoticed by either Daryl or Merle. He had pulled up a seat just where the bar bent…apparently his new "seat" and was sitting there, smiling in Daryl's direction.

"Ya know where Andrea is?" Axel asked once he saw that Daryl was looking in his direction.

Daryl glanced at Merle and saw that his brother saw the man as well. He didn't know, at least not with any real certainty, how Merle felt about Axel. There was really no reason for there to be bad blood between them. Axel hadn't done anything to Merle and he hadn't exactly "taken" Andrea away from him. Axel had simply been there to offer some attention to Andrea when Merle was too damn hardheaded to pay her any and now it seemed that Merle wanted her back, but Andrea was going to make him work for it, and for whatever reason Merle wasn't entirely ready to bite the bullet and follow Daryl's lead on how to get what the hell you wanted out of life.

Still, none of this was Axel's fault, and though Daryl wanted his brother to be happy, he wanted Andrea to be happy too. He had nothing against the man so long as Andrea liked him and he was a damn cheery son of a bitch if there ever was one. It was pretty damn hard to dislike him, even if Daryl had actually wanted to put any effort into the act.

"Gone ta sort dishes," Daryl offered.

Axel nodded his understanding and produced Andrea's purse from under the bar, putting it in front of him.

"Called me down here," Axel said. "Left this in my car…said she's gotta drive home and didn't wanna do it without no license."

Daryl nodded his head at Axel.

Andrea appeared out the back a moment later wiping her hands on her pants. She glanced directly at Daryl and he gestured his head to the side so she looked in Axel's direction and realized he was sitting there.

A smile spilled over Andrea's face and she started directly toward him.

"Thank you!" She said, reaching her hand out and accepting the purse that he held up for her. Daryl watched as Axel leaned up and over the bar and Andrea leaned in, meeting him and pecking him on the lips.

"Didn't wanna see ya locked up," Axel offered. "Don't got enough bail money for ya."

Andrea chuckled and put her purse under the bar. She grabbed up one of the clean beer glasses stacked close by and started filling it with whatever no name draft they were hustling for the night.

"Let me buy you a beer," Andrea said. "It's the least I can do for the gentleman that would drive all the way out here to bring my forgetful ass my purse."

Daryl watched the interaction with little interest. He'd seen the two of them more times than he could count at this point. Axel was frequently at the house and both Carol and Andrea adored him. Daryl didn't mind him around Carol because it was clear that his interest lie solely in Andrea and that his kindness to Carol was merely that extended to the close friend of the woman he was trying to cozy up with.

The poor man was damn near like a dog, Daryl thought. He followed Andrea around and let her dictate damn near everything he said or did. He'd do nearly anything she wanted him to do without even a moment's hesitation. If there was a face for what Merle would call pussy whipped, Axel was the poster child. What made Daryl even more amused was the fact that he knew from Carol that Axel hadn't so much as gotten a piece of it yet…he was caught up hook, line, and sinker just from the mere thought of it, or so it seemed.

Daryl glanced at Merle and realized his brother was watching the entire show with a little more intensity than he was. Merle was clearly interested in seeing how things transpired between Andrea and Axel…and Merle didn't have the same insider information that Daryl got from Carol when she was feeling gossipy.

Merle growled a little in his throat when he saw Andrea lean to kiss Axel again, scrunching her nose up at him in faked disgust as she wiped whatever beer foam had apparently gotten on her face from his mustache.

Daryl studied Merle for a second and then leaned toward him, bumping his arm against his brother's.

"Ya could put a stop to it, brother," Daryl said. "Just gotta be fuckin' man enough ta do it."

Merle looked at Daryl sideways and made a noise somewhere between a growl and moan. Daryl smiled.

"Or ya can let the ole boy move in on ya girl," Daryl said. "All the fuck up ta you. He's gon' win, though, if ya don't play the fuckin' game at all. Ya forfeit an' ya sure as shit ain't gettin' the prize."

Daryl made sure to keep his voice low enough that Axel couldn't hear him, though the man wasn't paying them any attention anyway. He'd turned on his stool, beer in hand, and was either watching some of the drunks play pool or was watching as Andrea worked the tables near the drunk pool players. It was really hard for Daryl to tell which.

"He ain't winnin' shit," Merle said. "An' I ain't carryin' no damn purse neither."

Daryl chuckled.

"Might wanna swallow that pride one day, Merle," Daryl said, fixing himself another shot.

"Ya sayin' ya'd carry a purse, Derlina?" Merle asked, leaning in a little.

"In a fuckin' heartbeat," Daryl said. "But I know what the hell I got."

Daryl finished off the shot and chuckled.

"What's so fuckin' funny?" Merle growled.

Daryl shook his head.

"Hell, ya oughta see the damn diaper bag my ass is gon' be carryin' 'round when my kid gets here…shit's 'bout big as a fuckin' suitcase an' it's all plaid and bright as fuckin' Easter Sunday," Daryl said.

"Ya turnin' into a real damn pussy, Derlina," Merle said.

Daryl sucked his teeth. He might be…but he didn't mind it one bit.

"That's alright," he said, deciding to try and get his brother's goose a little with the newfound levity of the moment. "I might be a pussy…but at least I'm gettin' plenty of it too."

Daryl chuckled again as he heard his brother scoff. He didn't miss, though, that his brother glanced over his shoulder ever so quickly to get another look at where the hell Andrea had gone darting off to. Daryl thought there might be hope for his brother…even if he'd have never dared to think it before. Merle just had to get there on his own time and hope to hell he hurried up before Axel got completely in the way.


	113. Chapter 113

**AN: I hope everyone's weekend is going well! I thought I'd drop in and give you another little chapter.**

**This one comes with a warning…I guess. It's sexual…pretty much the entire chapter is about sex. Though I don't really know if I'd call it smutty. I have a hard time explaining these things. If you're not into sexual discussions, though, then you might want to just bypass this one.**

**That being said, it does serve a purpose…it's a little something of character development, just character development done through sexual conversation. But again, you've been warned, so if you're not into it…you'll be fine…just move along like there's nothing to see here.**

**For those of you who do read, though, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!**

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"No!" Carol protested, although not with much sincerity. "I told you…I don't feel like it."

"Mmm…but'cha could feel like it," Daryl said. "If ya'd stop bein' hardheaded an' roll over here…lemme take care of ya."

Daryl had probably been trying for about fifteen minutes to convince Carol that she wanted to sleep with him, and he wasn't exactly loosing, at least not the way that he saw it. She was protesting and she stayed pushed to her side of the bed, pushing his hand off whenever he teased her by putting his hand on her waist as though he were going to pull her across the bed. Daryl could tell she wasn't serious, though…at least not really. She was playing at this point more than anything because little bits of laughter escaped her now and again when he snuck a finger over and poked at her side.

Daryl figured that it this point she just wanted to tease him…or maybe she wanted attention or something. He just had to figure out exactly what it was that she wanted, give it to her, and then she'd roll right on over happily. Turning down sex wasn't something she could be accused of lately.

Ed had been out of prison now for about five days. Daryl had a mental calendar running, but no one had seen him and no one had heard anything about him. They were starting to wonder if Michonne had been right, though purely by accident, and the man had decided to just get the hell out Dodge and cut his losses instead of risking another trip to the state prison.

Daryl wasn't complaining, though, of Ed's absence. He hoped the fat bastard was as far gone as California by now and he never showed his face around there again.

Tonight, though, there had been no mention of Ed…and Daryl knew that wasn't what was on Carol's mind. If it was, she'd been amazing at hiding it, and Carol wasn't known by him for her ability to keep her emotions too deeply buried.

She hadn't been in a really bad mood or anything at all tonight. Maybe she'd been a little glum or gloomy…perhaps a little pouty…but Daryl was slowly learning to distinguish between what were moods that were actually caused by some outside influence, and what were the strange moods that just seemed to wash over her inexplicably like tides.

For instance the fact that she cried…without fail…every single time a certain toilet paper commercial came on the television. Daryl knew now that it was something to do with the toilet paper commercial…and it was something he would absolutely never understand…but it didn't mean that she was really upset or that she was in a bad mood. Something about that damn commercial just sent her brain the subliminal message that it should make her cry.

That's essentially what he'd contributed her mood tonight to being. It was just something that was happening to her, and given the opportunity she probably couldn't fully explain it…but he was going to give her the chance to try in hopes that it might let him know what she needed so he could have a better chance of getting to what he wanted to get to.

"I'm not rolling over," Carol said.

"Ya gon' tell me why not?" Daryl asked, reaching out and drawing on her back, which was facing him, with his fingertip.

"Because I'm gross," Carol said.

Daryl chuckled at her.

"Ya ain't gross," Daryl said. "Hell ya just took a bath. Smell like…" he sniffed the air and was unable to identify the smell exactly, though it was a pleasant one. She must have switched out the bath soap again because it had been strawberries last night. "Smell like soap…ya smell clean. Now roll ya ass over here."

Daryl heard Carol chuckle at him a little and she reached up, tugging her pillow down a little more.

"I _look_ gross," Carol said. "I'm fat and I feel gross…I don't want you looking at me naked."

Daryl laughed in response. They'd had some variation of this conversation a few times before. Carol was uncomfortable with her body and she didn't say anything to anyone else, but she surely saved it up for him.

"I can turn the bathroom light off," Daryl offered. "Then I ain't hardly even gon' see the bed."

Carol rolled slightly and looked over his shoulder, faking annoyance at him. He knew now exactly what this was about and what was expected of him. She wanted him to make her, by whatever powers were invested in him by the state of Georgia as her husband, to make her feel pretty.

"Come on," Daryl said. "Ya ain't gross. I seen ya gettin' ready for bed…not half an hour ago…I know ya ain't gross…hell that's what got me stirred up tryin' ta convince ya ta roll on over here an' lemme make ya feel better."

Carol rolled a little and Daryl silently congratulated himself. He had not won this war yet…no…not at all. This would be a little longer battle, but he had at least fired some shots in favor of his side.

"I'm fat," Carol said.

"Ya ain't fat," Daryl responded. "Ya carryin' Lil' Bit around an' if ya think that makes ya fat then ya can blame it on her for weighin' too damn much."

Carol laughed.

"Are you calling our daughter fat?" Carol asked.

"Nope," Daryl said. "Sounds ta me like it's you who's sayin' she's fat. I don't think neither one of ya's fat…I'm just assessin' the situation."

"My boobs are bigger too," Carol said. "My bra doesn't even fit right."

"Don't I know it," Daryl said, grinning.

Carol sighed and rolled over, facing him and yanking her pillow back in the other direction so she could cram most of it under her face. Daryl couldn't help but smile at the obvious pout on her lips. She was playing with him, that much was evident, but she really was going through some stuff about her body and that was pretty evident too. Daryl smiled at her and reached out, rubbing his finger over her bottom lip which was protruding more than it normally did.

"Hey…" he said. "Ya ain't gross an' ya ain't fat, OK? Ya just as damn pretty as ya ever was…an' ya a lil' bit different, but that ain't no bad thing. Weren't you the same damn woman that told my ass ya was gon' change 'cause a' this baby an' I better not get worked up about it?"

Carol didn't say anything, she just continued to stare at him and the pout deepened, making Daryl quite sure they were going to get tears to work with soon if he didn't get a handle on things before the evil troll that lived in her brain and made her cry at all things not tear worthy got full control again.

"An' here I am…don't bother me one bit," Daryl continued. "I like ya tummy an' I love ya boobies bein' bigger…an' here you is all poutin' 'bout it. Am I gonna have ta give ya one a' them big ole speeches?"

Carol sat up then, leaning on her elbow, the pout not entirely gone but lessening a little. She at least no longer looked on the verge of tears, and these days that was a victory worth celebrating in Daryl's opinion.

Daryl scooted over a little in the bed so that he was closer to her, lying down and looking up at her. He reached up and raked his fingertips just through the hair at her temples, tugging it a little and eliciting a bit of a smile from her.

"You're an asshole," Carol said, the smiled broadening.

Daryl chuckled.

"What the hell am I an' asshole for?" Daryl asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"For being so cute," Carol said. "You won't even let me be in a grumpy mood."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her.

"Can't help my natural abilities," Daryl said. "If ya wanna be in a grumpy mood, though, then ya welcome to it, just come on over here an' give me some sugar while ya do it…best learn ta multitask."

Carol leaned over him and kissed him, biting at his lip as she pulled away from him. Daryl smiled and finally dared now to reach up and cup her breast for a moment before moving his hand and rubbing her nipple between his finger and thumb. Just the way she flitted her eyelids at him told him that she was over the fighting against it for now and would actually be willing to do what he wanted.

Daryl leaned up, kissing her again, and bringing his hand down between her legs. She'd bothered, for whatever reason, to put on panties before she got in bed, and he rubbed her through the cotton before slipping his hand in the waistband and stroking her teasingly. She leaned up on her knees, giving him access and moaning a little as he slipped a fingertip a little deeper before continuing his rubbing.

Daryl didn't need as much teasing as her. Just the promise and his little friend was awake and at full salute, checking in to make sure he wasn't fucking up plans for the evening. Carol, still up on her hands and knees and hovering over him enough for him to be able to reach her, reached one hand out and stroked him gently, soliciting a growl in his throat that he couldn't have controlled if he'd wanted to.

"Take them damn panties off," Daryl panted, hating to interrupt her action but having other things in mind that were more interesting to him.

Carol smiled at him and raised up, maneuvering her way out of the cotton underwear. She tossed them somewhere toward the head of the bed on the side that she'd been laying on…the side that was technically "his" though they rarely stayed on designated sides, and then she dipped down and drug her tongue slowly up the length of him.

Daryl hissed. He'd never let her do this before. He just didn't really like the idea of her being down there…sucking on his dick. No matter how good it felt, he'd heard Merle talk about it too damn much when he was drinking and shooting the shit with random assholes in dirty ass bars. And when they talked about it, Daryl always thought it was pretty damn degrading. He equated it, in his mind, with something that they expected women they thought weren't good enough to be treated as more than whores to do, and Daryl didn't want to put Carol in that position so he'd made up a million excuses as to why he didn't like it.

Carol moved around on the bed, licking him again, and Daryl was raised up, looking at her as she stared back, intently, at him. She was waiting on him to stop her. But he knew this drill. If he stopped her, she would cry.

He didn't know why, but for some reason it was important to her that he let her do this. Each time he'd protested she'd gotten upset about it and then it had been a dead topic until she'd decided to do it again. Still, his aversion to the idea was almost enough to take away the pleasure…and if it didn't take away all of it, it certainly lessened it.

"Ya know I don't like ya doin' that," Daryl said.

Carol stopped, the pout returning to her face.

"I want to…" she said.

Daryl propped himself on his elbow and sighed at her.

"Why? Why's it so damn important to ya?" He asked.

Carol frowned.

"Because…" she started. "I don't know…I've never done it before…not because I wanted to do it…"

Now it was Daryl's turn to frown.

"Ya ain't no whore," Daryl said, finally admitting to some degree why he held an aversion to the act and particularly to the idea of Carol performing it. "I don't want'cha ta do nothin' that's gonna make ya feel like one."

Carol sat back now on the bed and Daryl realized that if they were going to get around to sex…which they likely would…they were going to be postponing it until after they'd finished this little piece of business.

There were a lot of times these things happened, though, and Daryl was almost used to the fact that they were going to regularly start something up only to put it on hold indefinitely until they'd covered some topic or another of one of their lives…or in this case something that touched both of them.

Carol frowned and shook her head.

"Ed used to say I was a whore…" Carol said. "But I'm not…and I've never been one."

Daryl grunted.

"Fucker used ta say a lotta shit," Daryl said. "But'cha ain't no whore…and I don't want'cha ta ever think that I think ya one."

"I don't think that, Daryl," Carol said. "I don't think I could."

"Merle an' all the fuckers he ever run his mouth with…" Daryl said. "They always talked about this shit with the women they was hookin' up with for a night or so. Talked about 'em suckin' their dicks an' shit. I always thought it sounded like the damn cheapest shit ever."

"So maybe it's not the act that's to blame," Carol said. "Maybe it's how they looked at it. You can make anything sound cheap if you want to…just like you can make even the best things into a form of torture if that's what you're after."

Daryl sighed.

"I'd rather just be with ya," Daryl said. "Somethin' we both get somethin' out of…"

Carol crawled forward then, sitting closer to him. She leaned down, kissing him, before she pushed herself back up.

"When you go down on me," Carol said, "do you get anything out of it?"

Daryl felt his cheeks burn.

"Yeah," he said.

"What?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled a little, more with his own embarrassment at talking about the issue than with any real humor he found in the situation.

"Hell…a lot," he said. "I like it. Like the way ya taste…like how ya smell…like the way ya act when I'm doin' it an' knowin' that'cha squirmin' 'round an' purrin' like that 'cause a some shit that I'm doin'."

"So it's not a bad thing?" Carol asked.

Daryl shook his head at her and nervously nibbled at his thumb.

"It's more like a…like a power trip or something..." Carol said, reaching over and trailing her finger in a circle around his nipple.

Daryl scrunched his face up at her words.

"I don't like the sound a' that," he said. "Ain't no power trip. It's more than that."

Carol nodded her head a little and tipped it to the side.

"OK," she said. "I know it's more than that…when you're with me and all that jazz…but it puts you in control, right? You feel like you're in control of me…or of what I get out of it, right?"

Daryl moaned a little.

"I reckon," he said.

"So…that's what I want," Carol said. "I want to be the one in control of what you get out of it…and I want to be the one to decide that it's something that I want to do to you…something I want to do for you."

Daryl bit his lip, considering what she was saying. He understood it. He really did, at least now. She wanted to do this because it was something that she felt like was going to give her something…it was going to put her in a place that she hadn't been in before. It was a place, not of some slut somebody picked up in a bar somewhere, but in a place where she was doing what the fuck she wanted…with him.

"Besides," Carol said, obviously sensing his hesitation, "we're married aren't we? Doesn't that mean we get to make the rules?"

She shrugged and continued to tease his nipples, sending a shiver through him.

"Alright," Daryl said, finally giving in. He almost laughed at her facial expression as she cut her eyes at him. It was a little more suited to giving her a Christmas gift and less suited to giving her permission to give him a blow job.

"You're not going to be mad?" Carol asked, not moving yet from her position.

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't gonna be mad. Ya wanna do it, then that's what the hell we gon' do…but as soon as I get a breather we gon' tangle the hell up an' do this shit right," Daryl said.

Carol smiled at him.

"However you want," she said.

She was too damn excited about this shit and Daryl almost thought it was funny. He could tell she was going to get a hell of a lot more from this than he thought she was going to get in the beginning just because she'd worked it up in her head that it was going to do some serious shit for her…or at least for her mind.

Daryl flopped back on the pillow feeling a little uncomfortable until she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him. He closed his eyes and tried to put the negative thoughts that he had out of his mind. He wanted to enjoy this. In fact, he thought it was actually _important_ that he enjoy it.

"I don't know if I'm any good at this…" Carol admitted after a second, though she hadn't actually started yet.

Daryl chuckled and leaned up, glancing at her a moment.

"Just don't bite my fuckin' dick off an' I reckon ya gonna be the best I ever had," Daryl admitted.

Carol smiled at him and he dropped back on the pillow with a sigh.

Daryl closed his eyes and let himself sink into things. He had nothing to go on, but he didn't think that Carol was terrible at it…not like she'd thought she'd be. He actually thoroughly enjoyed it, even when the mood had been broken for a minute because she'd had to stop to get control over the fact that she'd gagged herself pretty thoroughly.

When Daryl came he barely had a second to get control of himself before he couldn't help but snicker at her. She swallowed, but only after gaging again, and red in the face she wiped her mouth and crawled toward him.

Daryl rolled his head in her direction, smiling at her and trying to get his breathing in check. He held his arm in her direction and she lied down, settling her head against him. He rolled his head enough to kiss her forehead slightly, still panting.

"D'ja like it good as ya thought'cha would?" Daryl asked after a second.

"Did I do alright?" Carol asked.

"Mmmm…" Daryl said. "Damn near perfect."

Carol rooted into him a little and he smiled, letting his lips brush the part of her forehead they could reach again.

"In a minute…we goin' 'bout this again, ya know," Daryl said.

"I know," Carol said, lazily toying with his nipples again.

"Ya get ta be on top," Daryl said.

Carol groaned.

"I'll squish you," she said.

Daryl chuckled and moved the arm that was under her enough to playfully pinch her. She protested it much louder than was necessary.

"I said ya on top, woman," Daryl said. "Don't give me no damn lip. I get a better view of ya big ole titties that way."

Carol moved a little and kissed his chest.

"Fine," she said. "But only because I want you to have your way."

Daryl chuckled.

"You're in charge, woman…I'm just along for the ride," Daryl said.

Carol laughed at him and maneuvered herself so that she could bring their lips together. Daryl thought it was strange to taste himself on her tongue, but he didn't mind it. She held the kiss, breaking it long enough for both of them to get the deep breath that it was denying them, and brought her lips back, finally pulling away and nipping his bottom lip when she was done.

"And don't you forget it, either," she said, coming back and nipping him again.


	114. Chapter 114

**AN: Hi every one! Hope your evening is going well! **

**We've got a week to go before Season 4! Yay! No worries, though, I'm not giving up on writing just because a new season is coming on. Just don't expect updates on Sunday evenings because I'm sure I'll be busy! LOL**

**This chapter is a Merle/Andrea one, but have no fear, our favorite couple hasn't gone anywhere! I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Andrea pulled the car into the driveway and could see Merle working at the bike that had been parked, abandoned essentially, under the carport since the two of them had called it quits. She got out of her car, slamming the door shut so it wouldn't pop back open and went around to the passenger side to open the door and get out the laundry basket full of clothes she'd brought from Axel's house.

She picked up the basket, with Juniper riding in it like some kind of dog princess, and bumped the door shut with her hip, starting toward the carport.

She heard Merle growl a little as she walked up and she glanced in his direction. He chuckled at her.

"Look like damn Cinderelly…gotcha a damn rat an' all," he said.

Andrea sighed at him and put the basket down on the ground near the step that led to the door. There was no need to be in a hurry, after all. It would be some time before she had to get ready to work at the Watering Hole and she didn't have much else to do with her day. She sat on the step and reached over, stroking the head of the old dog that was content to stay in the pile of clothes for as long as she'd let her.

"Juny is not a rat," Andrea replied. "She's a very sweet dog."

"Yeah…what'cha doin' with it anyway?" Merle asked, tinkering still with the bike.

"Axel's at work," Andrea said. "I told him I'd do some laundry for him since he can't afford machines yet. It's a bitch to use the Laundromat…you should know that by now…or do you just not wash your clothes?"

Merle chuckled again.

"Don't'cha worry ya ass about me," Merle said. "My shit gets clean when it needs ta be."

"Anyway," Andrea said, partially ignoring him, "I decided to bring Juny over to hang out with me and Lincoln until Axel gets home. There's no need in her being alone in that house."

"Ain't you just a sweet one?" Merle asked.

"What about your bike?" Andrea asked. "You ever going to get that thing running or is it just going to sit here indefinitely like some kind of redneck lawn ornament?"

"Shit runs already," Merle said. "Fucker just don't sound quite like it should. Oughta have her goin' in a couple a' days, though…if I really get a mind ta get her done."

Andrea put her elbows on her legs and leaned her head into her hands. She watched, a little bored, as Merle continued to work.

"So ya like livin' here? All crammed up under my brothah?" Merle asked after a few minutes.

Andrea snickered.

"Where the hell else am I gonna go, Merle? Spend money to rent another shit hole over in the dumb you're living in? Not a single damn person in this town wants to live with my ass unless I'm already living with them...or unless there's some reason I don't want to be up under them…like Michonne and her kids."

Merle was quiet for a moment again, getting up and circling around the bike, his back to Andrea. She watched him, now, more for the chance to look at him without him knowing that she was getting an eyeful. She missed him…more than she cared to admit…but she was holding onto her pride, whether it was foolish or not.

"Ya could come back with me, ya know," Merle said, his back conveniently to her so that she couldn't see his facial expression.

"Why would I do that?" Andrea asked. "You told me to get the fuck out, Merle. I got the fuck out."

"Shit Andrea," Merle growled. "How many fuckin' times I said the same damn thing ta ya ass? Ya just up an' one day decide ya gonna be a cunt about it? How damn long ya gonna keep ya shit up…huh? Playin' house with my brothah…stringin' along ya lil' runt of a boyfriend?"

"Doesn't sound like much of an apology," Andrea said, raising up to sit erect.

"Weren't apologizin'," Merle responded. "Was askin' a fuckin' question."

"Maybe the answer to your question is that it's going to last as long as it takes me to get an apology," Andrea replied.

Merle turned around and walked over to the brick column that separated the two halves of the carport. He leaned against it, like a bear, scratching his back by rocking side to side and he studied her. Andrea didn't drop her gaze from him.

"What the hell ya want me ta say?" Merle asked after a minute. "Ya want me ta apologize for what? For fuckin' actin' the same damn way ya knowed all along I was? Want me ta say I'm sorry for bein' an asshole…somethin' if 'member correctly ya said ya liked?"

Andrea stood up and picked the little dog up out of the clothes basket. She yanked open the glass door and then pushed the wooden door beyond open just far enough to push the dog inside to entertain Lincoln. Then she turned around and walked toward Merle, putting her hands on her hips.

"Things change, Merle…people change. Maybe I'm one of those people," Andrea said.

Merle sucked his teeth, standing up now from his bear like position.

"So ya changed huh? Not the same Andrea ya used ta be? What's so damn different 'bout'cha?" Merle asked.

Andrea hated when Merle looked at her like he was looking at her right now. When he wanted to, Merle had a very deep and intense stare…it was usually only around when he abandoned his bullshit antics for the time being, making it a rather rare occurrence. Still, when he looked at you with that expression, it was hard not to think that Merle was so much more intelligent, so much better at reading you, than you ever thought possible before. Andrea always found the stare unnerving. She did her best, though to hold her own against it.

"Maybe I grew up a little, Merle," Andrea said. "Maybe I realized I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life…maybe it was time for me to stop letting others dictate anything about me."

Merle raised his eyebrows at her, a half smile crossing his face.

"An' part a' ya new found self is one that thinks I oughta go tellin' ya I'm sorry for not changin'?" Merle asked.

Andrea shook her head.

"No…not really. I don't want your halfhearted apology Merle. Maybe I've realized I want a little more out of life than what you want out of it," Andrea replied.

She sighed and shrugged a little.

"Maybe I don't want an apology at all, Merle," Andrea said. "I think…at this point what I want is you to be different…and now that I say it out loud, that really isn't fair for me to ask."

"I reckon ya done caught'cha yaself some kinda fever, huh? Think I oughta be one a' these damn pussies runnin' 'round?" Merle asked.

Andrea shook her head, smiling softly at him.

"No Merle…a pussy isn't what I'm looking for either," Andrea said. "What I'm looking for is a real man. And now that I've seen what one of those looks like…what a couple look like…I just don't think I can go back to playing with little boys."

Merle narrowed his eyes at her, a little irritation evident there.

"A real man, huh? Like ya boyfriend?" Merle growled.

"Axel's a man, yes…" Andrea said. "He's not afraid…not like you are. Tyreese…he's a real man too. They're different kinds of men…but men just the same. Daryl…he's done a lot of growing up too. You should be proud of him."

Merle set his jaw.

"Who said I ain't proud a' Daryl?" Merle asked.

"Nobody said it," Andrea said. "And if you are then that's good. Daryl's in love…he's got a baby on the way that he's every bit as excited about as Carol is…he knows what he wants out of life."

Merle chuckled.

"An' he's willin' ta be a pussy ta keep it?" Merle responded.

Andrea got the feeling, though, from his tone of voice, that he didn't fully mean what he was saying.

"There's nothing about Daryl that's anything to frown at," Andrea said. "He's still the same old Daryl…he's just not afraid to admit what he wants and how he feels about it. There's no shame in that."

Merle cleared his throat and moved like he was going to walk away from her, but he stopped and turned back. Something in his eyes was different for the moment and all signs of a smile were gone from his face.

"Thought'cha didn't believe in love…" Merle said. "Ain't'cha always fuckin' said it weren't real? Was just some damn shit that people made up ta say they was hot for someone an' it was gonna fade away soon as they quenched their fuckin' thirst?"

Andrea shrugged.

"I guess I don't believe that anymore either," Andrea said. "Maybe I thought I did…or maybe I was just scared."

She snickered just to think about it. She really had changed, and honestly much of the change had taken place without her even knowing that it was happening or even really having a clear moment where she could point at it and say there's where it happened.

"Maybe I was the pussy," Andrea said.

"So ya lookin' for love now, is it?" Merle asked. "Ya lookin' for ya damn white dress an' ya snotty ass kids? That what'cha after?"

Andrea smiled at him, reaching up and trailing a finger along his jaw line. He flinched for a second, but then he stopped, staring directly at her again with the same intense look he'd worn before.

"I think my days of wearing white without being run out of Sweet Junction by people with pitchforks have passed," Andrea said. "And I can't say that I'd ever want kids…but the love…yeah, Merle. I think I'm looking for it."

Merle bobbed his head a little. He chuckled after a second.

"Fuck, Andrea," he said. "Ya think ya gon' get that shit from me?"

Andrea almost felt saddened by it. The truth was that she knew he was capable of love, but she doubted he even believed it. She wanted it from him…if it was coming from anyone she would have liked it to be from him…but she feared it was something that he'd never be able to offer her.

Andrea shook her head softly.

"No, Merle, I don't think I'm going to get it from you. Some people change…others never do," Andrea said. "Maybe you and me…well maybe you were right all along. Maybe there's never going to be anything there."

Andrea sighed, realizing that she probably needed to let Merle get back to his bike and she should get a load of laundry going. She shrugged and offered Merle another smile.

"It was fun while it lasted, though, right? That's what matters," she said.

Andrea reached up and patted Merle's chest a moment before she turned around to go and get the laundry and haul it to the small laundry room tucked in the back of the carport.

"Andrea…" Merle said just as she reached the step and bent down to pick up the basket. Andrea stopped and turned back, raising her eyebrows in response but not saying anything.

Merle ran his tongue over his teeth, pushing his lips out for a second. He walked over to her and reached a hand out, catching her by the arm and pulling her closer to him. He held her, then, by the upper part of both of her arms.

"I ain't my brother," Merle said. "An' I ain't never gon' be Daryl…hell, I don't even think we really related half the damn time."

Andrea looked up at him, wondering if he was going where his tone of voice told her he might be going, or if it was just wishful thinking and the strange intoxication that the upcoming family holidays held in the air.

Merle dipped his head and before Andrea could protest, he had his lips pressed firmly on hers. She leaned into him a little, wanting to fight the kiss on the one hand and not daring to on the other. She had missed him, and even there was only a kiss, at least it could be one last one. She gave herself over to it, determined to make it the best one she had if it was going to be the one that stayed with her.

Merle pulled away after a moment and Andrea realized she was panting a little. She could almost kick herself for the natural way that she responded to him. Unfortunately there was no switch for turning it off, no matter how much her brain argued with her body about it.

"Why don't'cha fuckin' come back?" Merle asked. "Ya knew when I said it that I didn't a damn bit more mean ya should get the fuck out than I ever meant before that. Fuck…just somethin' ta say."

Andrea swallowed.

"There are other things that are just things to say," she said.

Merle chuckled, still holding her there.

"Like what, princess? What pretty words ya reckon ya gotta fuckin' hear?" Merle asked.

Andrea tried to still her breathing, but the intensity with which Merle was holding her eyes at the moment made it difficult.

"I love you," she said, her voice faltering. "That's a nice one. I'm happy to see you…I'm glad you're here…Hell…even thank you…there are a lot of things that are just things to say, and they sound a lot nicer than fuck you, I don't care a damn thing about you, and get the fuck out."

Merle chuckled, breaking the stare for a moment to look toward the floor but still not releasing his grip on her arms. In fact, it tightened a little and Andrea wondered if there might be bruises there the next day.

"I do got a way with words, don't I?" Merle asked. He let his eyes come back to look at hers again.

"Not with the ones someone wants to hear," Andrea said. "Not with the ones that I need to hear."

"If I was ta say these words…these damn pretty words that'cha need so fuckin' much since ya's a changed woman an' all," Merle said. "Would'ja stop washin' this fuckin' assholes underbritches an' come back ta the apartment with me?"

Andrea felt her heart almost stop and she struggled to make sure that nothing going on inside of her was daring to even peek out the slightest bit.

"If you said them," she said, hesitating a little, "and if you meant them…I would come back. But I'd have to be sure that I knew you meant them."

Merle chuckled again.

"I ain't carryin' ya fuckin' purse an' I ain't paintin' ya fuckin' toenails," Merle said.

Andrea shook her head softly.

"I wouldn't think you would," Andrea said. "Although…holding my purse for me sometimes…well it isn't exactly a sin against nature…but we could talk about it."

"I ain't jumpin' through no fuckin' hoops like a damn circus poodle neither," Merle said.

Andrea narrowed her eyes, almost disbelieving what she was hearing and what she saw in his face.

"Maybe little hoops?" Andrea asked. "Low to the ground? Not too much jumping involved?"

Merle chuckled and Andrea smiled at him.

"Fuck!" He spat. "Ya a damn hell cat an' a half. Ya know that? Fuckin' bitch!"

Andrea chuckled in response. She realized that even the idea of doing anything like this…anything that she might request of him…was almost certainly causing physical and mental pain to Merle.

Andrea swallowed and licked her lips, the taste of his…the taste of his mouth and the taste of stale smoke…still there.

"I'm not asking for a lot," Andrea said.

"The hell'd ya have in mind?" Merle asked.

"A few nice dinners," Andrea said. "You admitting to me…and at least a little to everyone else…that you asked me to come back."

Merle growled low in his throat.

"You don't even have to say you love me," Andrea offered. "At least not to anyone else. Just that you give a fuck."

Merle chewed at his lip, his grip loosening on her arms but his hands still not dropping.

"And then ya comin' back?" Merle asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Andrea smiled.

"And then I'll come back…and when I do come back…I'll make it worth your wild," Andrea said.

Merle brought his lips back to hers and she leaned into him, feeling as she pressed her body against him that he had become, throughout the length of the conversation, though she wasn't sure at what point exactly, aroused by the entire thing.

When they broke apart, Andrea could tell that Merle's breathing had changed speeds as well.

"Well?" Andrea asked. "Do we have a deal? Because if not, I've got things to do…and I already said I'm washing this load of laundry, so I have to keep good on my word."

Merle nodded his head slightly.

"I give a damn, OK?" He said.

Andrea smiled at him. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't a Shakespearean sonnet by any means, but it was something.

"I give a damn about you too, Merle," Andrea said. She laughed. "Even if you are an asshole."

Merle dropped his hands then.

"Fuck you!" He responded, smiling. Andrea didn't take it to heart, though. She knew that she might get Merle to change some, but some things never changed…and for Merle a "fuck you" was almost as good as a quick "I love you" from most people if the tone was right.

"Fuck yourself," Andrea said. She turned away and heaved up the basket to take it and dump it in the machine. She glanced over and saw Merle adjusting himself, pretending to be paying attention to the bike again.

"When we goin' ta dinner?" Merle asked.

"I'm free tomorrow night," Andrea offered, pulling open the door to the little laundry room.

Merle smiled and visibly ran his tongue across his teeth.

"Dessert afterwards?" He asked, smirking.

"Mmm…" Andrea responded. "That depends."

"On what?" Merle asked, the smile dropping for a second in genuine curiosity.

"On the caliber of the gentleman that takes me out to dinner," Andrea said. She winked at him and slipped into the laundry room to start the clothes. When she passed back out, a few moments later, to head into the house and take care of a few things, Merle was back to tinkering at his bike. She didn't miss, though, that he winked at her when she looked at him and shot her a quick smile which she returned before slipping inside.


	115. Chapter 115

**AN: Hi everyone! Sorry for the brief absence. Real life is really kicking me with tons of work and it doesn't look like it's going to slow down…ever. LOL Still, I didn't want you to think that I'd run away or anything. I'm still here, it's just that some days…especially when I literally work all day…it can be tough to spend the after work hours writing. I promise to do my best though, I just ask for patience if stuff isn't as great as it could be or chapters are a little shorter at times than they normally would be. I love the story, I love writing it, and it's a good stress relief and escape for me, and therefore sometimes shorter or not so fantastic chapters might be all I have to give, but I will give those freely! **

**I appreciate your comments and reviews always! You're great! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"Good?" Daryl asked.

He was sitting in the bed, cross legged, watching Carol as she ate the third of the bananas that he'd brought her from the kitchen as a peace offering to the annoyed hormonal god or whatever it was that was making her crave milk and bananas more than she could even begin to explain.

"Mmm hmm…" she hummed.

They'd retired to bed for what was a pretty early bedtime for them, but they didn't figure it mattered much. Everything was taken care of for the day and Andrea was out with Merle on either their second or third "official" date, so it wasn't like there was really anything pressing to do around the house.

Lincoln sat between them on the bed, trying to negotiate his way into having more of the bananas than he'd already been giving by giving Carol his saddest eyes possible. Daryl watched her watching Lincoln, but he'd already cut the dog off since he'd eaten probably about as much of the fruit as she had.

"I think Andrea was saving these to make banana bread for Thanksgiving dinner," Carol said. Her facial expression expressed clearly that she was feeling a little guilty for working her way through the bananas, but Daryl wasn't going to make her feel bad about it. She'd been talking about and eye balling the damn things for most of the day. He assumed it was because they were reaching their ripest point and therefore they were very easy to smell…and he'd already figured out she'd developed some kind of supersonic smelling capabilities.

"So I'll go an' get her some more tomorrow," Daryl said.

"I think they need to be really ripe…" Carol said.

"They's four more in there an' I'm sure the A an' P's got some really old bananas they won't mind unloadin' ta stop a fight from breakin' out between women," Daryl said with a snicker.

He knew that the bananas weren't really a big dead. Banana bread or not, their little Thanksgiving gathering would go on…and Daryl was pretty certain that the banana bread wasn't going to be the hot topic of conversation afterwards or the particular thing of interesting during.

"What'cha think about this whole Thanksgivin' thing?" Daryl asked.

They'd volunteered to have a little gathering, nothing big, at their house. Michonne and Tyreese were coming, Merle was coming, and Andrea had already invited Axel as well. Needless to say, it was mostly on Daryl's mind what might happen between Merle and Axel if they were in the same room together. He wasn't sure, exactly, how Andrea had handled the whole situation since she'd started talking to Merle again, and the last thing he wanted was them to become known around the neighborhood as the rednecks who had a fist fight in the yard during Thanksgiving dinner.

Carol shrugged a little at him.

"We got the food…Michonne's bringing the turkey…and Axel's bringing pie. Plus you're getting that pie from Miss Jo," Carol responded. "I think we're set for a small Thanksgiving feast."

Daryl made a face.

"Could ya stop thinkin' 'bout food for a minute?" Daryl asked. Carol just blinked at him and finished the last of the banana, tossing the peel into the trash can they had propped on the nightstand table so that Lincoln couldn't go garbage diving in the middle of the night. "I was talkin' 'bout this whole Andrea love thing…feels like some kinda damn thing ya see on T.V. 'cept we ain't tryin' ta figure out who the fuck the Daddy is."

Carol giggled.

"You mean Axel and Merle?" Carol asked, turning her attention now to her milk. Daryl nodded at her. She shrugged a little, gulping down a good deal of the milk. "I don't think there's going to be a problem," she said when she came up for air. "Why? Did you think Merle was going to do something?"

Daryl scoffed.

"Why's it always gotta be Merle that starts shit? Could just as soon be Axel," he responded.

"OK," Carol said. "Do you think that Axel's going to start something?"

Daryl shook his head. He didn't think that Axel was going to start anything at all. That didn't exactly seem to be Axel's style. The man was about as low key as they come, and that was something that might not mix well with Merle Dixon.

Since Andrea had started talking to Merle again, Daryl wasn't sure exactly what was going on. Andrea was going out to dinner with Merle from time to time and they were getting along…better than they had when they'd lived together…any time that he came over to the house to work on the bike that Daryl had determined was going to be parked under their carport for the rest of eternity.

Andrea hadn't, however, stopped talking to Axel. Granted, Daryl hadn't seen her kiss the man in a long time, but he still came and went as he pleased and she often went down to his house. Daryl wasn't sure what to make of the whole thing and he didn't know if it was just a case of Andrea couldn't make up her mind about which one she liked more or what.

"What'cha think is even happenin' there? I mean I kinda figured Andrea would stop talkin' ta Axel an' then she's tellin' us she's invitin' him ta Thanksgivin'?" Daryl asked after a second.

Carol shrugged again.

"I don't know…I don't think she's…I think Axel is just a friend," Carol said, obviously not sure at first how she wanted to respond. "I think that Axel's willing to take what he can get. He's alone here…and Andrea's his friend…we're his friends. That's why she invited him to Thanksgiving."

"An' ya don't think he don't think there's more to it than that?" Daryl asked.

"Andrea said there's never been much more to it than that," Carol responded. "So…yeah…I think that's all there is to it. He needed friends and we're his friends. It's only right that he eats dinner with us instead of spending the holiday alone."

Daryl nodded his understanding, though he still wasn't entirely sure about the whole situation. Merle could have a short fuse at times, and since he'd been giving this, at least in Daryl's opinion, a lot more effort than he'd given damn near anything in his whole life, Daryl thought he might be more than a little annoyed if he thought that Axel might mess it up somehow.

Still, it seemed like there was nothing to do but wait and see what would happen. The most they could do was hope for the best and hope that their first attempt at a nice "family" Thanksgiving wasn't going to be marred by rivalry over Andrea.

"Don't look so worried," Carol said.

Daryl snapped his attention back to her. She was looking at him, her milk glass still in her hand, smiling. She rubbed her belly and Daryl smiled at her, determined not to worry anymore about the mess that Andrea, Merle, and Axel might all three be making of their lives.

"Feel better?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded and finished off the milk, putting the empty glass on the nightstand. She rubbed her belly again and sighed.

"I do…I'm too full now, though. I should have stopped at two," Carol said.

Daryl snickered.

"Ya didn't eat but one an' a half, no way. I see that shit eatin' look in Lincoln's eye. Lil' bastard knows he ate just as damn much as you did 'cause ya can't tell him no," Daryl said.

Carol frowned at him, though there was enough of a smile behind it to show that it was only a frown for theatrical sake. She reached over and rubbed Lincoln's head, running his ears through her fingers.

"I can too tell him no," Carol said. "When it's important…besides, I bet you're going to be terrible about giving Lil' Bit every single that she wants. She's going to have you wrapped so tight around her little finger that you won't want to tell her no for anything."

Daryl snickered.

"Yeah, right!" He said. "It's gonna be the hard knock life for that young'un. She best stay in there as long as she can 'cause I ain't givin' in ta nothin'!"

Carol laughed at him.

"You went and got the bananas, didn't you?" Carol teased, raising an eyebrow at Daryl.

"Got 'em for you," Daryl said. "If I'da knowed they was for her I'da told her she had ta go an' get 'em herself."

Carol laughed.

"Now that's a trick I'd like to see…" Carol said.

Daryl couldn't help but break his assumed character for the moment and laugh in response.

"Yeah, me too," he said.

"Soon enough, right?" Carol asked.

Daryl suddenly remembered that he'd been a bad husband…and father…he remembered that she'd gone to the doctor today and he hadn't asked her about it. He felt his blood run cold for a minute, wondering if she'd gotten her feelings hurt. He hadn't meant to forget…it had honestly just slipped his mind since Andrea went with her instead of him having to take off work because it wasn't supposed to be anything special.

Daryl swallowed, trying to gauge if she was reacting in any way to the conversation, perhaps with annoyance or something over his forgetfulness.

Carol didn't seem to be bothered by anything in the world, though. She was just sitting quietly, leaning back against all the pillows that she'd piled up, pilfered from everywhere she could find them, and stroking Lincoln's ears.

"Everythin' go alright today?" Daryl asked, feeling his cheeks burning hot over his own embarrassment at the fact that he'd forgotten to ask first thing.

Carol looked up at him from where she'd been staring at the dog and smiled, nodding a little.

"Right on track," she said. "Today wasn't too exciting. We did get to hear the heartbeat, but that was all."

Daryl smiled, relieved that she clearly wasn't bothered that it had slipped his mind.

"I 'member when that was as excited as ya could get," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled softly.

"Well, I mean it's still exciting, but it's not the same as getting to see the baby," Carol said. "Though the doctor saw her move…"

Daryl raised an eyebrow at Carol. He'd been trying, for some time, to feel the baby, but he hadn't felt much of anything yet…or at least not anything that he was sure he could contribute to the baby. Carol, though, insisted that she knew she felt her all the time, and had claimed that she could see from the outside what she was sure were kicks.

"She movin' now?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Not right now," she said. "I think I've been still too long. She was moving earlier, and she tends to move just when I'm getting comfortable."

"Then get'cha ass up an' go run a lap," Daryl commanded, grinning at her.

Carol sat there looking at him, defiantly, for a moment and then she shrugged.

"Fine…I guess I'll take the cup back in the kitchen," she said, starting to get up.

"Ya ain't really gotta get up," Daryl said. "I was just teasin'."

"I know," Carol said, getting up and tucking the trash can under one arm before picking up her empty milk glass. "But I want you to feel her move…and Lincoln needs to go out again anyway or he's going to leave a landmine in the hallway for Andrea to find on her way to her bedroom."

Daryl got up too and followed Carol as she made her way through the house, stopping to open the door for Lincoln and then passing through to the kitchen.

"That's if she comes home," Daryl said. "Ain't no tellin' when's gonna be the first time that she don't come home, ya know. I think Merle's givin' it the ole high school try but he ain't gon' hold out forever."

Carol laughed, going about washing her glass and dumping the bathroom trash can into the larger one they kept tucked under the kitchen sink.

"Andrea's not going to wait forever either," Carol said. "But she's serious about not giving in too soon with Merle. She's worried…you know…that giving in too soon will make it too easy for him."

"She's stringin' him along," Daryl said, leaning against the counter. Carol turned around and copied his stance, but across the kitchen from him.

"I don't think it's stringing him along," Carol said. "I think it's what she needs to do. Merle was an asshole…and it's easy to say that you've changed if you don't have to show it all. I think she's just asking for a little more to go on than blind faith."

"So how long's she gonna keep him on the line?" Daryl asked.

He'd talked to Merle a couple of times when Merle was tinkering with the bike and he knew that Merle was really interested in giving this a genuine go, and he was so shocked by his brother's behavior that he almost didn't recognize him, but he figured if Andrea wasn't throwing him any bones at all, then he might just decide it wasn't worth it and go back to his old ways.

Carol shrugged at Daryl though, not responding until after she'd gone and let Lincoln back in and offered him his treat with a long litany about what a good boy he was.

Carol was still wearing her "Lincoln face" when she stood back up.

"I don't know how long she's going to keep expecting Merle to act like a decent human being, Daryl," Carol said, a little annoyance in her voice. "I would think it needs to be something permanent…or did you think he just needs to be nice a little while and then it's OK for him to go back to his old ways?"

Daryl wasn't getting tricked into this one…no way, no how. He knew that tone of voice and his status as either sleeping in his bed or riding this night out on the couch could very well ride on how he answered.

And the truth was that he did _think_ that Merle needed to commit to being the "new and improved" style Merle for good if that's what he and Andrea were after…he just wasn't sure if he believed that Merle really had it in him to change for good. Perhaps he was just as doubtful of Merle as maybe Andrea was.

Daryl shrugged a little, though, recognizing that he needed, at this moment, to think much more about what Daryl needed out of life than what Merle needed.

"Nah…he don't need ta go back ta his old ways," Daryl said. He could have dropped it there, but he did want to at least throw in a little of what he was thinking…perhaps something to defend what he was, maybe poorly, trying to say. "I'm just sayin' it's kinda like Lincoln…if he ain't gettin' no cookies for pissin' outside he might just decide ta piss on the floor again 'cause he ain't gettin' nothin' outta the whole damn thing but a cold, wet belly."

Carol looked at him a minute, holding a stern face of someone who was thinking seriously about something and then she broke and chuckled.

"Well…" she started. "I don't know about the cookies that Merle is or isn't getting from Andrea. I haven't asked and she hasn't offered that information. I know no one else is dipping into the cookie jar…but I imagine she's not going to let him "piss in the yard"," she held up her fingers to do air quotes at Daryl, "for too long before he gets something."

Daryl turned his lip up.

"OK," he said. "I really think that's all I wanta say about Merle an' Andrea's sex life…if ya don't mind just leavin' it there…"

Carol laughed again.

"I couldn't agree more," she said. "Shall we go back to bed? See if I haven't stirred around enough to get your daughter to cooperate and speak to you?"

Daryl nodded at her and followed her back to the bedroom.

He almost felt nervous as he stood by the bed and watched Carol settle back into the nest of pillows that she'd built for herself. She'd lose all of them when she was finally ready to sleep, but she seemed to like lounging on them more than just leaning against the headboard.

Lincoln didn't seem nervous at all. He wasn't about to try to feel the baby. He simply bounded up his steps and flumped down almost immediately by Carol's legs, even before she was situated.

"Turn the light on," Carol said. "I'm curious to see if we can see her…"

Daryl walked slowly over and flipped the light on. He'd been trying to feel the baby for some time, but for some reason the thought of it made him nervous and he didn't know why. Maybe it was that he didn't know quite what to expect or maybe it was something else, but he could feel his heart pounding a little faster than it normally did.

He came over equally as slowly and took his place on the bed beside Carol, crossing his legs in front of him again as they had been earlier and watching her as she poked and prodded at herself.

Daryl felt like he sat there, awkwardly, fretting for a while. Carol wasn't paying him any attention. She was involved in apparently trying to dig around in her stomach in search of what was baby and what was the part of the bananas she'd eaten earlier.

She leaned back against her pillows with a sigh a few minutes later and closed her eyes. Daryl wasn't sure if she'd given up and gone to sleep or what exactly was going on. He reached over and started to rub the dog in a nervous attempt to keep his hands busy.

But after a moment, Carol reached her hand out toward him, not opening her eyes.

"Give me your hand," she said.

Daryl bit at his lip and put his hand in hers and she pressed it to her belly.

"There," she said. "Press in a little, you're not going to hurt me…you feel it?"

Daryl waited a minute, his hand pressed to the spot with her cool fingers against it. He didn't feel anything, but he hated to admit it yet again. Everyone was asking him, almost constantly, if he'd felt the baby kick and frankly he was starting to feel like he was failing miserably at this parenting thing because he hadn't felt it at all.

While he was fretting, though, he felt a small something against his hand. It was a nudge. Daryl almost held his breath in response. He glanced toward Carol and she was looking at him, almost with the appearance of a person also holding their breath. Daryl didn't say anything, though, and after a second he felt the nudge again, just against his fingers.

Daryl smiled.

"You're doin' that," he said.

Carol chuckled softly and a second later he felt the nudge again, though softer than before.

"I think she's moving," Carol said. "It feels different. It's not as strong as it was, though…So you did feel her?"

"Come on," Daryl said. "Ya did that!"

Carol chuckled again, still holding his hand to her belly, though the nudge had stopped.

"I did not!" She protested. "Can you do that?"

Daryl thought about it a minute. He wasn't sure exactly how he would make his muscles jump in the place where hers had jumped.

"I reckon I could if I practiced it," Daryl said.

Carol made a face at him, squinting her eyes.

"Do you really think, Daryl, that I've been spending my free time trying to figure out how to trick you into thinking you felt the baby kick?" Carol asked.

Daryl chuckled more at her facial expression and tone of voice than anything.

"Damn…ya already soundin' like a Ma…" he said. "So that was really her?"

Carol smiled and nodded.

"That was really her," she confirmed.

Daryl grinned and moved his hand, in search of the nudge again, but it seemed it didn't want to be found.

"She already ran outta steam?" Daryl asked, a little disappointed that now he'd finally found the baby and she'd decided to stop kicking.

Carol shrugged a little.

"I'm sorry," she said. She really did sound sorry about it, too. "She doesn't move all that much at a time…or at least not where it's that strong, but it's going to get stronger as she gets bigger."

Daryl frowned, but he leaned over the dog and reached out, catching Carol's face with his hand. She leaned up and they locked in a kiss for a minute.

"Whatta ya know?" Daryl said when they broke apart. "She ain't even here yet an' she's already givin' her ole man a hard damn time."

Carol smiled.

"Oh…you just wait," she teased.

Daryl smiled and leaned back in to kiss her again. He was waiting…as long as he had to…but he had to admit that he was far more excited about it than he'd ever thought he could be. He was far more excited than his need to hold onto whatever "manhood" he felt he preserved would let him even admit to Carol.


	116. Chapter 116

**AN: OK, here you go, a little more! Happy Friday everyone! Though if you're like me lately, Friday's just another day. LOL**

**I guess this is sort of an "episodic" chapter of two different little episodes, but it's what we have for the night and it's advancing the story forward! So here it is! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"I want you to be on your best behavior at Thanksgiving," Andrea said to Merle, unfolding her napkin and smoothing it across her lap.

Merle shifted in the booth across from her and glanced around the Wagon Wheel, chewing on a toothpick he'd somehow acquired since they'd gotten there.

"Mmmm…I just don't understand what the fuck ya lil' boyfriend's comin' ta dinner for…kinda thought'cha weren't gonna see him no more," Merle said.

Andrea sighed.

Merle was trying, and she knew that. He was trying with nearly every fiber of his being and was obviously trying to learn to wear hats that he'd never worn before, so she was trying to be even more forgiving and understanding than she'd ever been before. If he was putting in the effort, even agreeing to countless dinners filled with "talking", which was something almost foreign to Merle, then she could try and overlook his slips.

"He's not my boyfriend, OK Merle?" Andrea responded. "We're not fourteen…and besides…I told you that I went out with him a few times, but we're just friends. That's it. And he's a good friend. That's not something I'm willing to just throw away. So I need you to check your ego at the door."

Merle snorted.

"Askin' me ta check my ego 'cause ya wanna keep runnin' 'round with the fox that used ta have his damn snout in the henhouse?" Merle responded.

Andrea sighed again and leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand.

"Merle…I need you to try and wrap your mind around this. Nothing happened between me and Axel. Nothing. Nada. Not one damn thing. I kissed him, that was it. We never got more exciting than a Junior High dance," Andrea said.

Merle chuckled and shifted in his seat again, leaning back against the booth and folding his arms tight across his chest. Andrea watched as the toothpick twitched in the corner of his mouth while he chewed on what she'd just said as much as the splinter of wood.

"Do he know that?" Merle asked. "Look ta me like he ain't much a' nothin'…mighta been just about the most excitin' damn time a' his life."

Andrea huffed.

"Well is it my fault if it is?" Andrea responded. "Besides, he hasn't even tried to kiss me since I told him I was trying to make…this…whatever the hell this is…work with you. He's a friend. Carol will flip out on your ass if you ruin her little Walton's Thanksgiving Merle…and I warn you that she's none too stable. Just don't start shit, please?"

"Fine," Merle said. "Ya want me ta play nice with ya lil' friend, I reckon I can play nice with him."

"Thank you," Andrea responded.

The conversation was broken when the waitress came by, bringing their plates and taking extra orders for just about every condiment known to man. One thing that Andrea had discovered while eating out with Merle at most every place in Sweet Junction and the surrounding towns, was that both of them were aficionados of condiments of every kind and if they didn't overwhelm the poor waitress in the beginning with all the "extras" they were going to need, they'd have the poor woman more than earning her tip…though they always tipped well since Andrea knew quite well what it was like working in the service industry.

"So how long we s'posed ta dance 'round this shit, sugah?" Merle asked, putting the elaborate work necessary into making his baked potato exactly like he wanted it to be.

Andrea didn't have to pretend for a moment that she didn't know what he was talking about. He was likely wanting to know, and with reason, perhaps, how long it was going to be before she let him get farther than a kiss with her or an ass squeeze in the parking lot that he was reprimanded for despite both of them laughing.

Andrea shrugged.

"I don't know, Merle. How long do you think it's going to take?" Andrea responded.

"Wellll…" Merle drawled, "would help a lot if ya told me what the hell ya damn goal is."

Andrea decided to pay some special attention to her steak. She wasn't sure exactly what the goal was. She was hoping that was magically going to become clear to her at some point. Right now it was more or less to see if Merle was really dedicated to changing or if it was going to be something that wore off after a few days.

But then what? What did she want exactly?

Did she expect _Merle Dixon_ to marry her? To commit to her? Were they supposed to grow old together like Hershel and Miss Jo?

She felt like she was falling down the rabbit hole into Carol's dream…although admittedly, Andrea had never had a dream. She'd never, not once, felt like she'd known what she really wanted out of life. She'd wanted to survive…to make it through…to get by. Somewhere along the way she'd forgotten to let herself dream of more than that.

She'd listened to the words of every naysayer in her life. Her father…her stepmother…her mother even, before she died…people in town who'd known her and knew what her well thought of father had to say about her…she'd listened to all of them. She didn't deserve to have any dreams…and so she never had bothered with them.

So now what did she want? It was strange to have anyone…less likely Merle Dixon…asking her that.

"I don't know," Andrea admitted after a moment, "what the goal is, Merle. What do you want? When it's all said and done?"

Merle looked at her, chewing a bite of his own steak now. He was wearing a clear expression that indicated that no one had ever stopped to ask him that either…or either he'd never stopped to think that it mattered. In the end it was going to turn out however the fuck it was going to turn out. Word it how you would, they were in the same boat. Neither of them had ever dared to dream because dreams were just that. They were dreams, and giving into them just meant that one damn day you were going to wake up and find out it had all been an illusion.

Except maybe it wasn't the case.

Merle grunted a little, but there was no clear response from him. Andrea took that as all the response she was likely to get for the time being and turned her attention to her food.

"Want'cha ta fuckin' come back ta the damn apartment," Merle said after a few minutes.

Andrea rolled her eyes up to look at him.

"You mean for the night or what, Merle?" Andrea asked.

Merle audibly huffed.

"Fuck, Andrea. I want'cha ta move ya fuckin' ass back. We done talked about this shit," Merle said, obviously somewhat annoyed.

"And then what, Merle? What are we doing?" Andrea asked. "Let's so I go back to Daryl and Carol's house tonight and pack every single damn thing I own into a garbage bag…and then what? Do I stay until you start being a dick again and telling me to get the fuck out? Are we doing this for the long haul? I want to know what the hell we're doing."

Merle grunted again.

"We got ta plan forever just ta fuck?" Merle asked after a moment.

Andrea made a face at him.

"I guess I got my answer," she responded.

Merle chuckled.

"Now don't get'cha fuckin' panties all knotted up," Merle said. "I ain't said nothin' really…just tryin' ta figure out if ya waitin' on some kinda fuckin' mortgage or what."

Andrea laughed at him this time.

"Not a mortgage…" Andrea said. "Just a plan. I think we're not ready to move beyond dinner yet…we still don't know what comes next."

"Pfftt," Merle responded. "I know what the fuck's s'posed ta come next if ya weren't tryin' ta be such a damn Suzy homemaker all of a damn sudden."

Andrea nodded her head and went back to eating.

"See? That's exactly what the hell I mean. We're not beyond dinner," Andrea said. "We might get there…but we're sure as shit not there yet."

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Daryl was nervous that Thanksgiving was going to go bad, though he didn't know exactly what he was expecting to happen.

Axel had been the first to arrive and he'd brought pie. It was apple pie. Daryl knew because he'd stuck a fork in the edge of it when no one was really paying him any attention just to check. Miss Jo had sent some kind of orange pie and he dared to think it was pumpkin or sweet potato, but the apple actually seemed like a better idea.

Andrea and Carol had spent the whole day cooking, as well as part of the night before. The house smelled so incredible that Daryl hadn't eaten breakfast for fear of running out of room at dinner before he had a chance to even make it around the all the dishes.

Michonne and Tyreese got there with the girls a little after Axel and brought the turkey, and Merle was the last to arrive, sauntering in empty handed and loud about things.

But nothing had gone wrong at dinner. Despite all of Daryl's worries about it, nothing exploded and no one fought or argued at all. He'd spent most of his dinner glancing back and forth between Axel and Merle, but they hadn't seemed to have any problems. They hadn't exactly talked a whole bunch either, but there'd been no sign of rivalry.

Then after dinner they'd all crowded into the living room, dragging the chairs from the dining room along with them to make room for everyone.

Daryl quickly pulled his chair next to the couch. He didn't mind letting Michonne or Andrea sit there, since it was much more comfortable than one of the wooden chairs, but he wanted to be close enough to Carol that he could reach over and put his hand on her belly if she warned him that Lil' Bit was stirring around. He hadn't gotten to feel her often because she simply wouldn't wiggle for him, so he didn't like missing out when it did happen.

"Derlina…ya fuckin' glued ta ya woman or what?" Merle asked, choosing to sit cross legged on the floor instead of dragging a chair in. That meant, of course, that he was Lincoln's new best friend and very obviously a chair for Michonne's oldest. Daryl noticed his brother wasn't protesting the little girl's decision to come over and, without a word, sit on his legs, but he wasn't going to say anything.

"Shut up," Daryl responded. "I like it when the kid moves an' she don't do it too damn often so I like ta stay close. Ain't like she listens none when ya tell her ta hold on 'til ya get there."

Carol and Michonne both laughed. They were sitting side by side on the couch with Andrea bringing up the other end and sandwiching Michonne into the middle.

"Ty, can you get the bags out of the car?" Michonne asked, raising an eyebrow at Tyreese.

He looked at her, for just a moment, as though he was confused, but then recognition washed over him and he got up, passing Celine to Michonne and started out the door.

"Bags?" Carol asked.

Michonne nodded.

"Not much," she said. "I went through some of the things I had for the girls…things that never got used or that aren't going to get used…I thought you could use it. There's a couple of things in there for Daryl, though, that I thought he might like."

Daryl craned around Carol to look at the woman.

"What the hell ya got for me?" He asked.

If they were used to anything around there it was Michonne dragging stuff in. She was like Santa Clause or something. It seemed like every time they saw her she came bearing gifts of one sort or another. Daryl had felt bad about it for a while and tried to give her everything back, but eventually he'd given up since it always came back, and it came back with interest if he ever found a way to return things.

"You'll see," Michonne said, smiling at him.

When Tyreese came back, carrying two large sacks, Michonne instructed him to take them to the nursery and to bring her back the small bag that was tucked into the top of one of them. Tyreese didn't respond, he just started toward the nursery with all of them looking after him.

Merle chuckled.

"I don't know which damn one a' y'all is whipped worse, Derlina…you or that poor son of a bitch," Merle said.

Daryl shot his brother a look just in time to hear Andrea clear her throat. Daryl saw Merle clearly roll his eyes in her direction before the smile dropped off his face and he started paying unnecessary attention to the girl in his lap who was holding an uncaring Lincoln captive by one of his ears.

Daryl smiled to himself. His brother could talk all the shit he wanted, but it was quite obvious that Andrea was spinning her own lease and Merle was already wearing the collar…whether he'd ever admit it, and whether or not he was even aware of it.

When Tyreese came back into the living room, he walked straight to Michonne and traded her the grocery bag from the A and P for the little girl who was reaching toward him and babbling at him. He took her and went to sit back in the chair he'd brought for himself.

Michonne worked the knot out of the bag and pulled several things out of the bag, passing them to Carol.

"Never even took the tags off of these," Michonne said. "There's a lot more in those bags, but I figured Daryl might like these."

Daryl looked over at the baby clothes that Carol was looking at, tacked together in bunches.

"Oh look!" Carol cooed.

Daryl had heard that sound nearly every day for quite some time. Anytime that anything baby related came into the house, that was the sound that came along with it. Michonne and Andrea each had their own variation of it as well. It was like some kind of call that women had or something. It indicated something small and most probably colored like Easter eggs was in their presence.

"What is it?" Daryl asked, wondering how in the world Michonne could think that anything like that could be for him.

"They're little onesies and…look…little pajamas!" Carol said. "They all say 'Daddy's Little Girl'!"

Daryl narrowed his eyes a little at the sound of her voice that she assumed. He was slightly disturbed by the fact that anything relating to his daughter was met with the same sound as anything related to Lincoln, but he wouldn't dare point it out. He reached over and took one of the bundles, examining it.

The clothes were ridiculously tiny. He wasn't even sure they'd fit a doll. He tried not to make eye contact with Merle, though he could feel his eyes burning into him. At least Andrea was apparently on her end of the couch holding Merle's mouth at bay with her own laser beams.

"They cute…but she ain't gon' be able ta wear 'em," Daryl said.

"Well, they might be a little big," Michonne said. "But she'll grow into them and bigger is better than too small."

Daryl looked at her.

"Too damn big?" He spat, not meaning for it to come out so shocked.

Apparently his tone of voice at the outburst was amusing to everyone because light laughter ran through everyone there.

"How big did you think she was going to be, Daryl?" Michonne asked.

Daryl bit at his thumb. He hadn't been around babies very much. He only saw them sometimes in stores and things like that, and he'd been around Michonne's kids, but he couldn't half remember anything about them. It had taken him this damn long just to learn their names.

Daryl shrugged a little.

"Like Celine, I reckon," he admitted. He hadn't really thought about it much, but the girl seemed to be about standard baby size.

He knew he was wrong immediately, though, when he heard a chuckle from several people coupled with Carol's declaration of "Good Lord, Daryl!"

Daryl felt his cheeks burn hot and he didn't really want to look at anyone. Apparently his kid was going to be what he figured to be smaller than a good sized baby doll and he hadn't even realized they came that little.

Carol reached, though, and closed her hand around him, as though to try to soothe over the embarrassment that he was afraid was showing on his face. He could only be thankful that no one was speaking at the moment, but that made it all that much clearer to him that everyone must know he'd embarrassed himself.

"Don't feel bad," Tyreese said suddenly. "I used to think that's about what size they started too. I had some serious respect for women who birthed the things…if you know what I mean. Then I saw my first newborn when my cousin had a baby and…"

Michonne interrupted him by clearing her throat loudly and obviously.

"And it didn't do a single thing to lessen my respect for the hard work and sacrifice that women put into having children," Tyreese finished.

Even Daryl couldn't help but laugh and he appreciated the man coming to his rescue and helping to draw the attention off of him.

"Good save," Michonne said.

"Thank you," Tyreese responded. "You know it's just the truth, though."

Daryl sat there, the garments on his lap, Carol's hand over his, absentmindedly stroking his hand with her thumb. He finally got over his embarrassment enough to thank Michonne for the clothes and pass them back to Carol, still not entirely sure that he even knew what to expect when his kid was born.

As the day wore on, though, it was the main topic of conversation among the women. In fact, eventually he'd gotten up with Merle, Axel, and Tyreese and the four of them had gone outside to look at Merle's bike and pretend to have a great interest in it just to escape the chatter of the women.

Even outside, though, Merle didn't enter into a pissing contest with Axel and Daryl felt proud of his brother for showing restraint…or whatever it was that kept him from trying to start something with the man.

Instead, actually what ended up happening was Merle ended up cranking his stupid ass bike and discussing in detail the problem he'd been having with Axel who claimed to have done his fair share of work on bikes and said he could help Merle get rid of the ticks that were left.

"Ya can finally get that shit out from under my damn carport," Daryl declared, when he heard Merle making plans to meet with Axel over there and get the bike actually running.

"Shut the fuck up, lil' brothah," Merle growled. "This here's a fine machine an' it weren't like ya was usin' this space for nothin'. Hell it's just a damn porch an' it's empty at that."

"Don't let Michonne hear that," Tyreese responded with a chuckle. "If you do she'll be over here with furniture tomorrow."

"Ya know she ain't gotta do that shit," Daryl responded.

Tyreese shrugged.

"You'll never tell that to Michonne, man…so don't even try," Tyreese said. "That's one woman that it's best to just sit back and let her do what she's gonna do."

It was Axel's turn to chuckle then.

"That ain't just Michonne," he responded. "That's all women…Tryin' to control a strong woman is like trying to lasso the wind. You might wear yourself out doing it, but you ain't gonna be no more in control at the end of the day than you was when you started."

Daryl didn't throw his two cents in, though he knew that they were right. He could admit that there was a good deal of the time when he just let Carol handle things her way simply because it wasn't worth trying to debate with her over whether or not her way was the best way.

Of course, he felt like things with him and Carol might be a little different than maybe they were with Tyreese and Michonne. He felt like Michonne had always had control in her life…maybe a little too much control…but Carol hadn't had that. It was something she seemed to like sometimes, and it surely wasn't hurting him, so he had a lot less interest in trying to control her than maybe some other man would have with his wife.

Daryl glanced at Merle, though, who was tinkering a little with the bike while they stood around talking, and wondered if the man had any indication that there was a whirlwind blowing around and it had his name all over it.


	117. Chapter 117

**AN: This is just a little something for everyone. I wasn't going to update this one tonight, but it seems that I have no ability to sleep even though I'm dog tired…so here you go! Tomorrow night we get our premiere! Yippee! **

**This is just a little simple one…but it advances the story. It's "episodic" again.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Rick had been working with the women on gun training and he was finally able to sign off that they'd passed the class and were able to carry concealed weapons. He'd also brought a few of his own weapons to make sure that they had no excuses not to be prepared if something were to happen, and Michonne was thankful to him for that.

After they'd finished with the final round of practice shooting, they'd all gathered in the small resting area of the store. It had a gun range in the back and was the place that the police used to practice, and also where they taught their classes. Hank Osprey ran the store, and had run it since he was a teenager and his grandfather had passed it to him to retire because of heart problems, and he appreciated the extra business that having the police frequent the place brought him.

Michonne figured, though, that the store was never on the verge of going belly up. When you lived in a small Georgia town there was one thing that you could be sure of…the only guns and ammo store with a range was not a business that would be shut down for lack of patrons.

Still, at two dollars a head per day to use the range, Hank was a gracious host to them and brought them bottles of water, leaving them to use the small lounge area to talk as long as Rick saw fit. He excused himself, saying he needed to run down the street for a bit, and asked Rick if he'd lock the door on his way out were they to leave before he returned.

Once Hank was gone and Rick seemed to think it was safe to speak to all of them with stark honest, he slid his chair closer to the ones that they were all occupying.

"You're all doing great…and your aim is improving," he said, glancing in Michonne's direction. She was under no false belief that her shooting was very good. She'd hit her target…at least somewhere, but she'd come nowhere near as close to what she was aiming at as Carol had, and even less so than Andrea was apparently a sharp shooter in disguise. "Keep coming down here," Rick continued. "Keep practicing. Shooting is like anything else. Practice makes perfect. Just remember, you never aim a gun at a person unless you're willing to use it."

"You better believe I'd shoot Ed square in the face if I had the chance…" Andrea said.

Rick held his hand up to her, shooting her a warning look.

"Don't say things that you don't want coming back to bite you," Rick warned. He lowered his voice a little, glancing back and forth between the three of them. "I can't tell you to kill a man…especially not in cold blood. It's very real that you could go to prison for something like that."

"Do we get conjugal visits?" Andrea asked, a smile spreading across her face.

Michonne wasn't sure if she hadn't picked up on the gravity with which Rick, who had spent most of the day teasing and joking with them while they practiced, was now addressing them or if the discussion made Andrea nervous and she was now employing a type of defense mechanism.

Rick shot Andrea a look, though, that cleared up that such jokes were no laughing matter at the moment and Michonne watched the facial expression fade from the woman's face.

"You didn't hear me say this," Rick said, "but if you have to…" he paused, "if you have to shoot…someone…in self-defense…you shoot to kill, but only in self-defense."

Carol and Andrea both nodded their understanding when Rick's eyes glided across them and Michonne nodded as well when he looked at her. She understood what he was saying. There were only certain things that the law, no matter who was pulling the strings on the marionettes, could get you out of and murder was a tricky subject, no matter what the situation was. It was one of the situations where sometimes innocent people went to prison for murders that should be considered public services while cold blooded killers walked free for senseless crimes. It was all in how the chips fell…and they were none too easy with the likes of the scoundrel Philip Blake roaming about the area and picking up cases every day.

"Has anyone seen him…around?" Michonne asked.

Rick looked at her and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was one of his telltale signs for when he was stressed or he didn't particularly care for the way things were going or how he imagined they might go. Michonne knew that Rick would be a poor poker player.

"He's like the damn Lochness Monster or Bigfoot," Rick said. "People say every day that they've seen him…here or there…and yet he never actually shows up."

Michonne knew what Rick was saying was true. Ed had become something of a legend in the parts since the whole thing had been blown up all over the gossip chains of Sweet Junction and the surrounding areas. People who never had an interest in the man…people who never cared before what had happened between Ed and Carol…they were popping up all over the place now and chatting about where he might be and when he might return to the town. It seemed to be the most exciting thing that had happened since everyone thought it was going to be something like a scene out of some old Western movie and he'd come riding into town like Black Bart.

"But there's been no hard evidence that he's even around?" Michonne asked, casting a glance at Carol who was clearly interested in the conversation but who was also wearing a blank expression.

Rick shook his head.

"As far as I know?" He asked. "No. I haven't seen him. No one I know and trust to tell the truth instead of spreading stupid gossip has said anything about seeing him."

"So maybe he got smart and took a hike," Andrea offered, no longer trying to be amusing.

Rick shrugged and sighed.

"Maybe, and that's what we're hoping for, but just in case you're all to be prepared. Ed has a reason to dislike each of you…he has a reason to dislike me too. I don't care what Philip Blake would sell to every asshole that was on that journey, but Ed Peletier isn't a stable man and I don't trust him as far as I could throw him," Rick said.

Carol chuckled.

"You're telling me…" she said.

Michonne knew that Carol was concerned and she had every reason in the world to be so. Ed might have a problem with Michonne for getting him put in prison in the first place and for costing him what little amount of property he had. He might have a problem with Rick for being part of the behind the scenes action to making sure that he landed in prison in the first place and for fighting in court with Philip Blake to keep Ed there. He might even have a problem with Andrea for having been involved in the attack that sent his sorry ass to prison. But above all, it was clearly Carol with whom Ed would have the largest problem. It was from whom he'd spent so much time in his life trying to collect some kind of payment for an unexplained debt she never owed him.

"Keep the guns close," Rick said. "In the cars…in the houses…on your person if you can have them. Keep them out of sight as best you can in establishments that request you don't carry them and I'll make sure my boys turn a blind eye…just be prepared. Ed might not show up again…hell, he might be the stuff of legends now, but it's a chance that no one needs to take that he might show back up at some point."

"If it's self-defense though," Andrea started, "if he shows back up and he's after one of us…then we can shoot him?"

Rick shot her another look and she shrugged a little. Rick made a face.

"If something happens…show him you have the gun…show him that you're willing to use it if you have to, but do not shoot him if you don't have to. Just make sure, and like I said before, you didn't hear this from me, that if you do shoot him, you make sure you shoot him to stop him."

All of the women nodded and Rick nodded at them, all silently sealing the information that had been shared among them. Rick couldn't advise them, legally, to kill a man, and they all had enough sense to know that. Michonne also knew that Andrea and Carol had enough insight these days to understand how things sometimes worked in the law system…especially in Sweet Junction…and they had enough sense to keep their mouths shut about delicate issues.

Before they left, each of them thanked Rick for the classes and for helping them. Rick provided each of them with one of his personal firearms "on loan" and a box of ammunition, arguing that if they needed more for practice sake then they could simply get it from Hank and have Hank take it up with him.

They'd left, then, and headed home, exhilarated by the practice but also stricken silent by the reminder that someone very real might make them use the guns for more than shooting at paper targets.

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The dinner had happened somewhat accidentally. No one had intended to have some large affair. Luckily, though there was enough hamburger meat in the freezer to make burgers for everyone and Andrea had volunteered herself to stand over the skillet and take her time cooking all of them to each one's specifications. Granted the food preparation took a little time, but no one was really complaining.

When they'd gotten back to the house from training with Rick, Merle was under the carport tinkering on his bike with Axel. There were a few empty beer bottles that suggested the men were doing as much partaking of beverages as they were mechanical work, but both were engaged in a hearty and somewhat jovial conversation so no one had said anything to either of them about their little pow wow.

Michonne had come in, presumably to stay for only a few minutes, but she'd ended up getting a call from Tyreese about what to do about dinner and Carol had overheard her in time to insist that she stay and tell Tyreese to come by. The plan had been sealed when Tyreese had offered to swing by the daycare that kept the girls when Michonne needed to leave them there and pick up Anjelica and Celine.

So clearly, if Michonne and Tyreese were going to have dinner there, then it was only reasonable and polite that Axel and Merle stay.

And when Daryl arrived home with beer in tow, knowing already that his brother planned to work on the bike and therefore would partake of libations, then it had sort of turned into a dinner party without anyone even being sure how it had happened.

So Andrea stood at the stove and cooked burgers on a skillet while everyone crowded around in the kitchen, some drinking beer and others sipping iced tea, keeping her entertained with the chatter about the wonderful and delightfully boring comings and goings of the residents of their sleepy little town.

"We all better watch Andrea," Michonne teased. "She's been voted most likely to go to prison for becoming an outlaw or something. I think she likes that gun a little too much."

"It would be all women, right?" Andrea responded, not turning her attention away from the burgers.

"Sugah…I don't reckon they got no co-ed prisons," Merle said, sucking at the bottle in his hand. He chuckled. "Ya might find ya a nice piece a pussy, though."

Andrea snickered.

"Never know," she said. "Might like it…seems to do something for men. Might be something to it."

Merle chuckled.

"Don't'cha go shootin' my ass just ta find out," Merle said.

"All jokes aside," Axel offered, "ya don't wanna do nothing that's gonna land ya in prison. Ain't as bad as they show it on television…at least not if ya end up with the right group of people, but it ain't nothing ya'd wanna do voluntarily, if ya catch my drift."

Andrea turned her head a moment, glancing at him over her shoulder as he leaned against the bar with a beer bottle in one hand and Michonne's youngest balanced on his hip and tugging at his mustache.

"Are you saying you've been to prison?" Andrea asked.

Axel chuckled slightly.

"Well…yes'm…I've been. Did fourteen months at state," Axel said.

"You never mentioned that before," Andrea said.

"Beg pardon," Axel replied, "but it ain't exactly what one might use for a type of openin' conversation."

Everyone laughed then.

"What did you go to prison for?" Carol asked.

"Was a case of bein' in the wrong place at the wrong time, and being tangled up with the wrong kinda people," Axel said.

"That's how it works out most of the time," Michonne responded.

"Yes'm," Axel agreed. "Anywho…I got busted with some pharmaceuticals that I was holding onto for a friend…some friend, right? Didn't know they was stole and didn't know that my buddy was gonna turn me in when he felt like the heat was on him. Weren't no good situation. Did my time though…paid my debt to society."

"I bet you were the gentleman of the cell block," Carol teased. "I can't see you in prison for a minute!"

"I can't either, to be honest," Andrea said, shaking her head slightly.

Axel chuckled at that.

"I got along with most ever'body in there," he admitted. "Kinda scary if ya think about it, but they weren't all bad people. I thought when I went in that I'd be running up against a whole bunch of rough fuckers that just wanted to pound me around a bit. Truth is, though, that I kinda ended making friends with some of the guys. They were just victims of their circumstances."

"Ain't we all?" Merle responded.

The conversation dropped after that, mostly because Andrea announced that burgers were ready and it was every man for himself. They didn't have buns, but they had bread and people could learn to make do with what they had if they were hungry enough. Andrea figured Axel wouldn't mind and chuckled to herself at the thought. Her cooking might not be superior and she wasn't likely to become a chef any time soon, but it had to beat the hell out of prison food if nothing else.

Once they were all around the table, Michonne having satisfied her eldest with a small plate of food that she rested on the couch and ate from in bites while she ran around playing with the dog, and her youngest by trying out the new high chair that she'd brought over for Carol and Daryl had put together to tuck into the corner, the conversation turned to babies as it often did.

"You did a good job with this," Michonne said, looking at Daryl and tapping the tray on the high chair with her finger before offering a French fry to the baby and going back to her own "Redneck Burger" as they'd dubbed the makings of the meal.

"Weren't too bad," Daryl said. "Pretty straightforward."

"Once I got him to finally read the directions," Carol offered.

As with most things, Daryl had gone about the thing blind, tossing the instructions to the side and attempting to put the damn thing together based solely on instinct that he didn't possess but his pride wouldn't let him admit that he didn't possess. It was only after the amount of curse words that he was using began to exceed the speed limit for most areas that Carol and Andrea both had set about convincing him to just let them help a little…which essentially boiled down to letting them take turns reading the directions to him in an attempt to fix whatever mess he'd already made and keep him from making an even bigger mess.

"Well, you did well," Michonne said, winking at Carol.

"So have y'all picked out a name yet or what?" Tyreese asked.

Carol shook her head.

"Not yet…" she said. "We haven't really talked about it."

"You've got time for that," Michonne said. "You don't want to just randomly pick something…make sure it has some meaning to it."

"Where'd ya get the names for ya rugrats?" Merle asked.

Michonne chewed the bite of food in her mouth and swallowed.

"Anjelica was Dean's mother's name," Michonne offered. "Celine was my grandmother."

Everyone somewhat nodded their understanding and there were a few assorted hums and grunts, but no one ventured any farther down the path of baby names. Andrea didn't even want to begin to think what Merle might name a kid if given the chance. For some reason she just didn't think Fucker Dixon had a nice ring to it.

"They're starting up a new round of childbirth classes down at the Y," Michonne offered. "You two should sign up."

"Already?" Carol asked, wrinkling her brow.

Michonne shrugged.

"It doesn't matter when you do them," Michonne said. "It's not like the information is going to expire or like they're really going to come out with a whole lot of new information before Lil' Bit gets here."

"What the fuck ya need classes for?" Merle asked. "Pretty damn straightforward, ain't it? She screams…kid comes out…happy birthday lil' fucker."

Andrea couldn't help but laugh and nearly choked on the food in her mouth. Tyreese leaned over from where he was sitting and pounded her on the back to keep her from dying right then and there at Merle's description of childbirth.

"What the hell kinda classes is they?" Daryl asked. He looked worried.

"Just classes about…well…just about everything. Things before the baby comes…things after the baby comes…different techniques and possibilities for the actual birth," Michonne said. "I actually took the classes with both of the girls. I picked up information the second time around that I missed the first time."

Daryl scratched at the back of his neck.

"I don't know 'bout no classes," Daryl said.

"Hell, Daryl here damn near flunked outta kindie-garden," Merle said. He laughed. "Don't reckon he'd do no damn better in these classes."

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl shot at his brother. Andrea shot Merle a look, but he was in a beer goggle zone that made him immune to her warnings.

"Ya know if ya flunk the damn class they don't let'cha keep the kid," Merle said.

Daryl looked a little panicked and Andrea wished she had the magical ability to extend her arm all the way to where Merle was located and smack him in the back of the head. She considered, for a moment, playing the pass it down game with a good hard slap.

"That's not true," she interjected quickly. "Daryl…even I know that. Nobody takes your kid away."

Michonne chuckled.

"No, they don't even take your kid away if you accidentally break the head off one of the plastic babies," Michonne said. "And I know that for a fact. It's not like a real class in school or anything…there aren't tests."

"The big test comes at the end," Tyreese said, chuckling. "When you get to the finish line…that's when the test really starts."

"You might actually like it, Daryl," Michonne said. "They're very informative."

"We'll talk about it," Carol interjected. "We'll figure out what we want to do, won't we?"

Daryl nodded at her and Andrea realized the wheels were going probably a million miles a minute in Daryl's head. She looked toward Merle who was sitting there with a shit eating grin on his face and watching his brother and she tried to telepathically tell him that if he fucked with Daryl anymore about the baby she would make damn sure he never got another piece of ass in his life…and she had a gun and good aim to back that shit up. It might be illegal to kill a man, but she wasn't sure how damn long she'd have to do prison time for shooting Merle's dick off.

Luckily, though, Merle must have felt her eyes boring into him because he glanced in her direction and a few seconds later the smirk fell off his face. They abandoned the baby conversation entirely because Merle was the one to strike up the next topic, beginning a discussion with Tyreese about some work they were looking into.

Andrea smiled to herself. Dinner was going to go just fine. Merle was behaving himself with Axel…even seeming, perhaps, to have made a new friend…and now he was behaving with Daryl at least a little. Andrea was suddenly wondering what all the great powers she'd had all this time and never known about were. She didn't know all of them, of course, but it was becoming evident that she possessed, at least to some degree, some basic powers for controlling Merle Dixon's mouth and behavior. She ate her burger and enjoyed the rest of the conversation with some zest, almost drunk off of all the power she'd wielded throughout the course of this day.


	118. Chapter 118

**AN: Here's a little chapter for you. It's pretty fluffy. You've been warned so that if you're just tired of fluff or whatever then you can just hop right on over it. LOL**

**I hope you all enjoyed the premiere! I could have used more Caryl…but that's always the case! **

**There's a rather long AN at the end, but I felt it needed to be said just to put things out there about the story and where it's going/what's in the future. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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After Carol had talked Daryl down enough to make him realize that his brother was just being an asshole to him and that no amount of failure on their part in a childbirth class could cost them their child, Daryl had been somewhat receptive to the idea of the class and Carol had called the YMCA to get enrolled in one of their classes…an eight week course of sorts.

As they were navigating the somewhat rundown and abandoned halls of the Y, though, following the paper signs with arrows, she was beginning to grow strangely nervous about the class and she didn't know why.

"If we don't like it then we just agree on it and we don't have to come back," Carol said, more to reassure herself than to help out Daryl. She hugged her pillow to her, following only a few steps behind him, close enough that if he were to stop abruptly she would no doubt step on his heels.

"Yeah…" Daryl responded. "Ain't gotta stay if we don't wanna…"

Carol thought the least they could have done was made the place seem less abandoned. Most of the lights were out in the building, and it was only as they neared the location of the room and heard voices that she began to believe there was actually a class going on there and not that they were in some kind of bad situation that horror movies were made out of and someone was going to jump out from somewhere with a chainsaw or something.

Standing at the entrance to the room there was an older black lady that Carol was certain she recognized, but she wasn't sure where she knew the woman from. At any rate, if the woman was a long time resident of Sweet Junction, which she probably was, Carol had probably seen her around more than once.

"Hi there!" The woman said, smiling broadly. "Here for the class?"

Daryl stopped short and Carol bumped into him, distracted. When he looked at her he was wearing a bit of a questioning face and Carol wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. Where else were they going in the dark building with her clutching a pillow like it was a lifeline?

Carol smiled, though, and offered her hand.

"I'm Carol Dixon, this is Daryl," Carol said.

"We're married," Daryl added, stretching his hand out to the woman next. Carol slid her pillow up enough to hide the amusement on her face. She was already wondering what it was going to be like in the class…especially with Daryl there.

The woman smiled.

"Roberta Livingston," the woman said. "You can call me Roberta or Bobbie, I answer to both. Go on in, pick a mat…there are cookies and juice. We'll start soon."

Carol passed through the door first and almost stopped short herself.

There were at least four other couples in the room and all the women were significantly more pregnant than she was. She suddenly felt out of place or like she was already at the bottom of the class. She shot a look toward Daryl who was hovering near her, but he was chewing at his thumb and not looking at her.

Carol continued on, picking one of mats that looked like the brightly colored foam pallets they used in kindergartens and nurseries. Copying the other couples, she sat down on the mat, her pillow laid across her lap. Daryl sat beside her.

"I don't think I'm pregnant enough," Carol whispered.

"Ya got that feelin' too?" Daryl whispered back. "Ya wanna leave? We can tell Bobbie we was in the wrong class."

Carol stifled a laugh.

"I don't think it's polite to leave just a few seconds after you get here," Carol whispered back. "We'll stick it out and see what happens."

They sat quietly until Bobbie came back into the room, followed by another couple with a woman who took the mat next to Carol and was also much farther along than she was. Maybe this was the advanced class or something, though the person on the phone hadn't mentioned anything about it when she'd called.

After Bobbie gave her introduction to the class, she went around having everyone else tell about themselves. What their name was, how many children they had, if they knew what they were having, if they'd chosen a birthing plan…

Carol tried to memorize the list when Bobbie had been throwing out possibilities and then she tried to practice her speech in her head, but she still wasn't sure what to say when they got to them and everyone in the room was looking at her…she also realized that she hadn't listened to anyone else.

"I'm…uh…Carol and this is Daryl," Carol started, her voice sounding as unsure as she was. "We're having a girl."

Everyone was smiling and it was like being back in school when the teacher was trying to urge you through a presentation with a falsely painted on smile. Carol didn't have anything else to say, though, and Daryl had assumed a deer in the headlights facial expression.

"Is this your first child?" Bobbie asked.

Carol nodded and looked at Daryl who was also nodding.

"I don't know if we're supposed to be in here…" Carol said after a moment.

Bobbie looked confused.

"She ain't pregnant enough," Daryl blurted out, obviously trying to save Carol.

Bobbie snickered a little.

"The class is for anyone," Bobbie assured them. "How far along are you?"

"Twenty one weeks," Carol answered. "Almost twenty two."

Bobbie smiled reassuringly.

"Well that sounds just as pregnant as anyone else," she said. "A lot of the people in here actually took the class before, but it doesn't matter. We still cover all the topics and you can ask as many questions as you want. It's good to have veterans in the class too, they give really honest opinions."

Carol shot another glance at Daryl and he shrugged a little at her so she just nodded and smiled at Bobbie.

As the class got going, though, Carol started to relax a little and Daryl did too. The first class was simple enough with introductions to what they would be talking about, things to expect from the class, things they wanted to discuss…it was mostly a run down of what they would cover and the reassurance from Bobbie that the class could be catered to their needs and that she was more than willing to discuss, at any point, anything that was of particular interest to any of the couples.

Then they moved into the one little lesson of the night which was about relaxation techniques and ways to relieve stress for the moms to be. Carol listened carefully, practicing along with the other moms the meditative breathing techniques they could use to help them calm down, and she tried to keep herself from laughing at Daryl who was focused on what the woman was saying with some concentration, even listening closely enough that once he didn't realize his mouth had fallen open a little.

After the class finished they were all invited to stay for snacks and socialize and Bobbie had a variety of pamphlets for anyone who wanted them. Daryl got to his feet and pulled Carol up, going straight for the pamphlets while she opted to go for the cookies instead.

"I hope you don't feel intimidated by the class," Bobbie said, coming up and shocking Carol a little by squeezing her arm when she wasn't expecting anyone to be behind her.

Carol smiled and shook her head.

"I think we're going to be fine," Carol said. "It was just a shock to come in and…well…I just felt a little out of place."

Bobbie nodded her head.

"Some of the couples take the class twice, actually…once early on and once later. A lot of people take it with their first child and then again with other children after that. I try to make the class a really laid back atmosphere, though, so if you ever feel uncomfortable, just let me know. It helps me to know things that I can do differently," Bobbie said.

"Thank you," Carol said with a smile. She glanced in Daryl's direction. He was at the table covered with various handouts and pamphlets and from the looks of it he was simply getting one of each after holding the pieces of paper up and examining them for a second.

"Your husband seems really interested in the class," Bobbie said with a smile.

Carol snickered.

"Yeah…I guess he is," Carol said. Bobbie didn't know Daryl…and she didn't know Merle…and she didn't know about Dixon men, so she wouldn't understand why it was so bizarre to see Daryl building himself a pile of pamphlets.

"That's really good," Bobbie said. "Some husbands are just here because they have to be…or because they feel like they have to be. I always feel like they don't get as much out of the class, and maybe the mommies don't either if they don't have a partner who is really…involved."

Carol smiled.

"I'm lucky," she said…and for just a brief second she realized how true those words were and how she had so often thought she'd never hear herself say them in regard to her home life. "Daryl's excited about the baby…and he wants to be involved. He wants to do everything right, even though neither of us have done this before."

Bobbie chuckled.

"There's a first time for everyone. I have three at home, but I still remember what it was like to be expecting that first one. What they don't tell you, though, is that each one is different and even though you're an old hat at some things, you're still nervous, whether it's your first or your fourth. The important thing is wanting to do it and do it right…the rest you figure out as you go," Bobbie said, squeezing Carol's arm again.

Daryl turned then, having apparently amassed all the information that he needed, and came walking over, his bundle of paper in his hand.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Carol asked, gesturing with her head toward the stack that Daryl was carrying.

Daryl looked at the multicolored pieces of paper like he hadn't seen them before and then he shrugged.

"Don't know," he said. "Gotta read it ta know."

Carol couldn't imagine Daryl reading much…he wasn't much of a reader. It was even harder to imagine him reading things about babies and pregnancy and childbirth. Still, she certainly wasn't going to do or say anything to rain on his parade. If he wanted to read all the handouts that he had there, she wasn't going to discourage him at all. This was just as much his experience as it was hers and he deserved to get to do it the way that he wanted.

"If there's anything in particular you're curious about," Bobbie said to Daryl, "then you can just let me know. I can always set aside time to talk about it or find you information if you'd rather read about it."

Daryl nodded his head slightly at the woman.

"Thank ya," he said. "Reckon I'ma have ta see what I got here first…"

Daryl glanced at Carol.

"Ya ready ta go?" He asked. Carol smiled at him and nodded. She said goodbye to Bobbie and Daryl grunted his goodbye to the woman before strolling out of the room with Carol following along behind him.

"What did you think?" Carol asked when she was sure they were out of earshot in the quiet and darkened hallway.

Daryl grunted.

"Ya ain't gon' laugh?" He asked.

Carol shook her head, but he wasn't looking at her so she decided to verbalize her actions.

"No, Daryl…I promise. I won't laugh. Remember…we said we wouldn't tease about this," Carol said, reminding him of their pact. They'd decided that since they both had never done this before, and since it might lead to some embarrassment for them both, they could agree to laugh with each other about things but they had to stop teasing immediately if the other one didn't like what they brought up.

"I liked it," Daryl admitted. "I liked the stuff we did tonight 'bout relaxin' an' stuff 'cause ya get real wound up about things, so I reckon that could help ya…an' I wanta hear some a' the stuff she was talkin' 'bout doin' in the class."

"So we're coming back?" Carol asked.

She was interested too, and once she'd settled down and gotten into the class she hadn't minded it at all. She'd blocked out the other people around her and focused mostly on Bobbie…who seemed warm and inviting…and on Daryl who was listening with great concern to everything.

"Ya want to?" Daryl asked.

Carol snickered a little. He didn't want to admit that he'd been really into it. That was fine, she'd take the position this time.

"I do," she said.

She heard Daryl snicker.

"Yeah…me too," he said.

"I'm interested in the videos she's going to show," Carol said, just as they emerged in the parking lot. She took a deep breath of the cold air around her and hugged her pillow to her again.

"Ya wanna know what I thought was gonna be cool?" Daryl asked.

"What?" Carol asked.

"The baby week," Daryl said.

Bobbie had informed them that one of the bigger Ys in the area had some kind of special doll that apparently did all kinds of baby things and they were going to get to borrow them for a week. Each of them would take home a baby for the week and they'd keep some kind of baby diary about caring for the doll. Carol had heard it, of course, but she hadn't really paid it all that much attention. She would have never thought that would be the part of the whole thing that Daryl was excited about.

"You're really excited about that?" Carol asked as they reached the truck and Daryl walked around, unlocking her door and opening it, taking the pillow from her until she got in and then passing it to her with the brochures.

"Well…yeah," Daryl said, closing the door.

Carol fastened her seatbelt and waited while he circled around and got in the truck. When he was in he closed the door and cranked the truck, putting the heat on high though it didn't work well and waving his hands in front of the old vents to test to see if there was any promise of at least a little warmth on their drive back to the house.

He turned to her after that, before making any move to back out of the parking space.

"I mean it's like a test drive…an' we get ta figure out all the baby stuff 'fore Lil' Bit gets here so we ain't testin' shit out on her," Daryl said.

Carol snickered a little.

"Well it's not a test drive," she said. "I mean if you don't like the doll we don't get to turn the baby in…she's nonrefundable once she's here."

Daryl chuckled.

"OK, maybe I don't mean test drive," Daryl corrected. "I just mean…well…I don't know."

He stopped and shook his head and Carol could tell from the lights in the parking lot that he was frowning.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean anything bad. I'm glad you're excited about it. It'll be good."

"Don't tell Merle…" Daryl said.

Carol smiled and reached over, squeezing his hand. She leaned a little and he responded by leaning in and kissing her gently.

"I would never tell Merle you're excited about the baby week," Carol said. "In fact, we can just pretend that they're making us do it and you hate the idea of the doll."

Daryl smiled at her.

"I'm just making you do it…because I'm mean like that," Carol added.

Daryl reached over and bumped her chin with his finger before turning right in his seat and fastening his seatbelt, getting ready to back out and drive them home.

"Damn woman…always makin' me do shit I don't wanna do," Daryl teased.

Carol faked a sigh.

"The curses of being married…" Carol said.

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**AN: OK, so I figured it had to be said for anyone still reading who was wondering. As I've been doing planning for this story, it just keeps growing. It's really funny since I started the story with absolutely no idea where I was going and it's grown into….well…this. Ha ha! **

**Still, I wanted to say that I do have a plan to end this story after the baby is born. I'm not sure how long it's going to take to get there, though, since frankly I do enjoy just exploring the lives of our characters in conjunction with the story. That being said, I've decided to end the story there for everyone who is sick of Sweet Junction and sick of our characters and simply reading because they hate getting caught up in a story and not finishing. I'm sorry to those that they'll have to suffer through all the stuff until we get there, but there is an end for you.**

**I have already decided, though, that I will be continuing/writing a sequel, etc. to the story for those who are interested. It'll essentially pick up just where this one leaves off and be my own experiment/fun little thing of playing with the characters and their lives. That way, if you're interested in reading it, for whatever reason, you'll have the option, but if you're just tired of it all, you can bail out when this one ends. No hard feelings. **

**I just figured I'd throw that out there for everyone who is rolling their eyes at the story or is ready for it to end already. It might still take us a bit to get to the end, because I do enjoy exploring the many different facets of the lives of our characters, but there is an end in sight for you…as long as you're not too nearsighted. **


	119. Chapter 119

**AN: Wow! I didn't really expect that mentioning my plans to keep going on with this would be so exciting to so many people! LOL Y'all are awesome! I like what Dixonrocks said, too, about it being like a sitcom. I guess I almost see it like a t.v. show in my head or something because I'm always like "what's in this episode?" **

**So this episode is a little fluffy too and part of it…and the upcoming chapter(s) is/are inspired by a late night conversation that I had with SOA loving mom, so if you like it…then you've got her to thank for the inspiration! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"Ain't it a lil' early for all this mess?" Daryl asked as he was heaving boxes around the attic, passing them down to Hershel who was waiting below and every now and again climbing up to stick his head through the hole in the floor and direct Daryl to what he wanted next.

Hershel, who was currently looking through the hole in the floor so that only his head was visible, chuckled at Daryl.

"Good heavens, Daryl, don't you let Jo hear you say such nonsense! We're late!" Hershel said.

"Ain't even Christmas yet," Daryl said.

He'd spent the whole morning unloading tons of boxes marked "Christmas" and he had a ton more to go. He didn't even know where Miss Jo was planning on putting all this stuff.

Hershel chuckled again.

"You have to decorate early so you can enjoy it longer," Hershel said.

Daryl sat down on the floor, taking a break, and in response Hershel stepped up a few steps and rested his arms on the floor surrounding the hole.

"To tell you the truth," Hershel said, "I like when Jo puts out all the decorations. She pays so much attention to it. It's like…I don't know…it's her own special art. She's waited a long time this year."

Hershel broke off and Daryl watched him. The old man chuckled to himself and sighed.

"Do you know the first year we were married…Jo was so excited about getting to decorate for Christmas in our house that she decorated before October had even gotten started good. We went through three Christmas trees that year that because the sad little things dried up and her uncle thought they'd be a fire hazard so he kept coming buy and bringing her a fresh one," Hershel said. "The next year I told her that she couldn't decorate for Christmas until Halloween had passed. November first the decorations came out of the attic."

Daryl snickered. He could just imagine, as he had them painted in his mind as young people, Hershel and Miss Jo decorating for Christmas while other people still had pumpkins on their porches.

"Carol cried when our damn pumpkins turned ta nastiness," Daryl said. "Don't even know what she'd do if'n we was gonna get a Christmas tree."

Hershel frowned at him.

"You're not buying a Christmas tree?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Nah…I ain't never done much for Christmas…don't mean too much ta me…so we just ain't doin' nothin' really," Daryl said. "Gonna go ta the parade or somethin' she wants ta go to an' we gonna go look at lights…we lettin' everyone else decorate for us."

Hershel frowned at him.

"What are you getting her for Christmas?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shrugged.

The truth was they'd talked about it and they'd crunched numbers but there were things they needed. Lil' Bit was going to have to have a carseat…and she needed other things too. Daryl had never realized how expensive getting ready for a baby would be. The kid was free…but nothing else was.

They were tucking money away for doctor bills and hospital bills because even though Michonne's law office offered insurance, it wasn't going to pay for everything. They had a house payment…and on top of that they were going to have to find a car. They couldn't legally put the baby in either of their trucks and Andrea had offered her car to them, but Daryl knew that old car didn't have much left in it anyway.

"We ain't doin' gifts this year," Daryl admitted. "We lookin' for a car so we decided we gon' call that our gift ta each other."

Hershel nodded his understanding a little.

"I remember what it was like starting out," Hershel said. "We made gifts for each other our first year together because we didn't have the money to buy them."

Daryl smiled. He hadn't thought of that.

"What'd ya make?" He asked. He wasn't sure he was much good at making anything. He could fix things pretty well if he was given enough time and tools to do so, but he hadn't ever been accused of being crafty.

Hershel smiled again.

"Jo made me a scarf…" Hershel chuckled. "She made me a hat that didn't fit…and some gloves that would have worked out well if I hadn't had thumbs."

Daryl laughed.

"I spent my evenings with an uncle of mine who had a nice little shop…he helped me make her a hope chest," Hershel said. "Now I know it wasn't very nice, but Jo still has it. She used it like it was the nicest piece of furniture we had. It's still in one of the bedrooms."

Daryl nodded a little.

"Well, I ain't no good at makin' things, an' 'sides that don't neither of us take that much time ta do stuff like that. Feels like we almost always got somethin' goin' on an' when we get a minute…well…hell…we just wanna spend some time together," Daryl admitted.

Hershel smiled and nodded again.

"That's the important thing," Hershel said. "At the end of it all, it's the time that you spend together that means the most…and it's the thing that you'll always wish you had more of."

Daryl gnawed at his cuticle.

"We takin' a class together now. Done been ta the first week. It's a baby class an' I got me a whole buncha lil' books I been readin' ta get ready for the other classes. Reckon it's somethin' we can do together," Daryl said.

Hershel chuckled.

"A baby class?" Hershel asked, raising his eyebrows and coming further up the ladder so he could sit on the attic floor with his feet hanging out the hole.

"All kinds a' stuff, really," Daryl admitted. "But we get ta…ya know…learn what we gotta do an' stuff. I ain't never been 'round no babies before an' I figure every lil' bit's gonna help."

Hershel nodded.

"I think you're going to do just fine, Daryl," Hershel said. "Though the class certainly can't hurt…at least in how well prepared you feel."

Daryl got up then with a sigh and started going through some more of the boxes to sort out what Miss Jo wanted from what she didn't. He figured he could at least slide them toward the hole while they were resting so they were easier to get down when it was time to get back to working hard.

"Daryl," Hershel started. "Do you think that you and Carol Ann might be interested in doing a favor for Miss Jo and me?"

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, stopping in the middle of working a particularly tattered cardboard box across the dirty floor.

"What'cha need?" Daryl asked.

"You ever been to North Carolina, Daryl?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shook his head. He'd hardly ever been out of Georgia to his recollection, although he was pretty sure he'd been every damn place in Georgia that existed.

"Miss Jo and I...well, we have a mountain house," Hershel said. "A little cabin, it's not much really, in the mountains of North Carolina. We used to try to go up there a couple of times a year, but it's a long drive for us and when you get older that much time sitting on your rear end can make you pretty hard to get along with once you're there."

Daryl turned around now, stretching his back and waiting for Hershel to get where he was going. By now he'd learned enough about Hershel to know that the man always got to his point, but he was going to get there his own way and in his own time and it was better to just sit back and let it happen.

"The kids don't seem to care much for the place," Hershel said. "I don't think any of them have been up there since they were children and we took them on vacation. Most of the time it just sits empty. This time of year, though, it's important to go up and make sure that none of the pipes freeze…just check over things…we try to stay there a couple of days so the place doesn't fall apart or, as Jo says, feel abandoned."

Daryl waited.

"Do you think that you and Carol Ann could maybe take the weekend and go up there and check on things for us this year? I'd give you a Friday and a Monday, paid of course. You'd need to check the pipes, make sure nothing needs attention," Hershel said.

Daryl shrugged.

"Sure…I mean we could do that," Daryl said. "Ain't no big deal."

Hershel smiled.

"It's really pretty this time of year," Hershel said. "Usually there's some snow…and the cabin's simple but it's a nice little place to get away from life for a few days. You two could…take a honeymoon if you will…a little time to yourselves before the baby gets here…and you'd be doing us a favor by saving us the drive."

Daryl nodded and smiled at the thought of taking Carol on a honeymoon. They kind of figured that they weren't going to have a honeymoon…not like a real one anyway.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "We could do that. When ya want us ta go?"

"I was thinking maybe this weekend?" Hershel asked. "Get up there before everything starts to get crowded with the Christmas holidays. I'd want you to take my truck, though."

Daryl shook his head.

"Ain't gon' put'cha out," Daryl said. "We can take my truck or Carol's."

Now it was Hershel's turn to shake his head.

"No…" Hershel said. "You won't put me out. I've got the farm truck if I need to go anywhere and my truck…well, it's a little nicer for a trip like that. It's got heat and the tires are good. If you're going to be driving, possibly, through the snow and ice on those back mountain roads, then I'd just prefer it if you were doing it in my truck. You've got some precious cargo…we don't need anyone running off the roads."

Daryl thought about it. He certainly didn't want to run off the road and get them into a wreck…and the tires on both their trucks weren't terrible, but they couldn't remember when they were actually new. Neither of the vehicles had heat worth writing home about…and it would be a pretty shitty situation for one of them to break down somewhere where they didn't know a soul.

"Thank ya," was all Daryl could say. He wanted to say a lot more, but he couldn't figure out how to say it and so he left it with the thanks. He hoped that Hershel would understand that it wasn't all he meant, it was just all that he could say about the situation.

Hershel smiled.

"No…" Hershel said. "Thank you. Now Jo and I don't have to stove up our old bones on the road all that time…and it'll do both our hearts good to know that some young people are getting some good use out of that old cabin. In our younger days it was a pretty special little courting spot."

Hershel winked at Daryl and Daryl felt his cheeks burn. Hershel chuckled and slipped back through the hold, standing again on the ladder.

"Come on, Daryl. Let's get this stuff downstairs. I can hear Jo already humming Christmas carols and that means they'll be cookies and hot chocolate in it for us both when all these boxes are down," Hershel said.

Daryl smiled and went back to bringing boxes over to the opening to pass down to the old man.

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"A cabin in the mountains?" Carol asked, nearly coming across the bed and toppling Daryl over when he'd told about the trip they'd be taking to check on things for Hershel and Miss Jo.

Daryl chuckled, Carol's arms wrapped tight around him in a hug. He steadied himself and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back softly.

"Yep," Daryl said. "We goin' up on Thursday…I'm gettin' off work early an' we comin' back on Monday. Gonna be like our own lil' honeymoon an' we ain't gotta do nothin' 'cept make sure they ain't no problems need ta be taken care of."

He hadn't expected Carol to be so excited, but she was nearly bursting at the seams over the thought of it. She pulled away from him then, sitting back on her heels on the bed.

"That's like two days," Carol said.

Daryl nodded, smiling.

"Gotta whole lotta stuff ta do?" He asked.

Carol nodded.

"I've got to tell Michonne…tell Loretta I won't be in…let Lula know I'm not working on Saturday," Carol started.

Daryl shushed her before she worked herself into something that even forcing her to do the funny breathing thing they learned in their class might not bring her out of.

"So ya just gonna tell 'em, ain't nothin' to it," Daryl said. "Hershel's payin' me for days worked an' he insisted on buyin' our gas an' stuff since they was gonna have ta make the trip anyway…so it ain't gonna matter too damn much if ya don't work a couple a' days."

Carol nodded a little and took an obviously deep breath to calm herself from her moment of working herself up.

"What about Lincoln?" She asked, the worry flooding her face again suddenly.

Daryl smiled.

"Why the fuck we got Andrea livin' her for free if she can't watch the dog a couple days?" Daryl asked. "'Sides…fuckin' Axel's over here all the damn time. Son of a bitch's gotta key. Just tell him we goin' outta town an' he'll bake the dog some damn cookies or some shit."

Carol smiled and chuckled a little at that.

"Do you have any winter clothes?" Carol asked. "I mean like a coat? If there's snow it's going to be even colder than it is here and all you've got is that leather coat…you'll freeze."

"Don't'cha worry 'bout that neither," Daryl asked. He was proud of himself. With Hershel and Miss Jo's help he was pretty damn sure he'd thought of nearly anything that she could come up with. "Hershel an' Miss Jo loanin' us coats just in case an' we ain't gonna freeze."

Carol smiled again, sighing. After a second of obviously trying to come up with something else to worry about, she squealed.

"We've never been on trip together!" Carol said.

Daryl couldn't hold back laughing at her. She was so damn excited that it felt like it would be impossible to be in the room with her and not be somewhat excited. He was happy about it, but he didn't feel like he even had the ability to reach the level of excited that she was right this second.

"No, we ain't," Daryl said. "But I reckon we goin' ta North Carolina."

Carol crawled to the edge of the bed and got off, walking around the room like she didn't know what she was doing. Daryl slid back, repositioning his pillow, and leaned against the headboard. He dug around on the nightstand and found the stack of little booklets and things he'd been reading. He was working his way through them slowly and figured he might as well read them while she did whatever it was that she was doing.

So he started reading, but he kept glancing at her as she paced.

"Fuck ya doin'?" He asked finally.

Carol looked at him.

"I don't know," she said. "I just feel like there's so much I should be doing and I don't know where to start…"

Daryl chuckled again.

"What'cha gotta do? Tomorrow ya tell everyone ya ain't gonna be at work an' we gotta pack…but that ain't gonna take all that long," Daryl said.

Carol snapped her fingers and looked at him.

"I can pack!" She said. "I can go ahead and pack…and then we don't have to worry about that last minute…"

She paused and bit her lip and Daryl chuckled again.

"What the hell is wrong now?" He asked.

"We don't have suitcases…we never pack," Carol said, shaking her head.

Daryl got up with a sigh, leaving his papers on the bed and went into the kitchen. He passed back to the bedroom a moment later shaking out one of the large drawstring trash bags they kept under the sink for the kitchen trash. He handed it to Carol.

"Here," he said. "Knock yaself out. Ya can take whatever the hell ya can fit in that bag."

Carol frowned at him again.

Daryl bit his lip, trying to figure out what the hell it might be this time. She looked at the bag and then back at him, opening her mouth slightly like she was going to say something, but not actually saying anything.

"Hell, ya can have two if that ain't big enough," Daryl offered.

Carol smiled at him and hopped a little, wrapping her arms around him again. Daryl chuckled and stood there, hugging her. He didn't know if they even owned enough stuff between the two of them to fill two of those bags, but if Carol wanted to pack everything they owned for a four day trip then he figured they'd get through that too.

When she broke the hug and went about packing, humming to herself, Daryl went back to the bed and settled himself in to read the next of the brightly colored and neatly folded booklets. He kept glancing, every now and again, at Carol when the humming stopped, but it seemed to only be stopping when she was concentrating on something especially hard.

Daryl smiled and shook his head at her. It might not be the fanciest damn trip they could take, but he doubted she could have been any happier if he'd said they were going somewhere like Hawaii or France. As long as they were going together, though, Daryl figured it would be the best damn trip they could take.


	120. Chapter 120

**AN: So here we go, the first of the honeymoon chapters. I thought I'd get this one out before bed. There are probably going to be at least 3 related to the honeymoon time. So sit back and get ready for the fluffy feels…**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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It was about a four and a half hour drive, Hershel had informed Daryl when he'd given him maps and driving instructions, having already packed some extra clothes in the truck for Daryl and Carol. Miss Jo had packed them a picnic basket for a stop on the way up and for dinner when they got there, and Daryl was pretty sure there was enough food in the giant basket to feed them the rest of the time they were there.

He'd also accepted from them instructions on what to check, instructions on how several things in the cabin worked, numbers to people in the area that he could call if they needed anything, and keys to everything.

After he'd left them, thanking them for everything, he'd swung by the house and picked Carol up after a few moments of loading all that she'd packed into Hershel's truck and listening to her fill Andrea's ears with instructions about Lincoln that the blonde was likely to have forgotten before they even made it into her head.

"Just don't let him piss on the floor," Daryl said to Andrea when Carol had headed for the truck. "An' if he do, clean it up."

Andrea smiled at him.

"Be careful…don't drive like an idiot," Andrea said.

"Not hardly," Daryl said, turning around and heading to the truck.

Once they'd gotten on the road, Daryl had reached over and took Carol's hand in his. She was grinning so much that he thought her face had to hurt.

They drove along in silence. There wasn't that much to talk about, and the silence was kind of nice. Daryl didn't mind the silence when he knew it wasn't because Carol was mad at him about something.

The drive would have been shorter, too, but Carol seemed to have to pee constantly so Daryl had stopped a lot more than he normally would have. Each time she went into a store to use the bathroom, he'd walk a few paces around the truck, taking in the cold of the air around him, or he'd smoke a cigarette…since he didn't dare to smoke in Hershel's truck…and watch the people that milled in and out of the store. Most of the people they saw were touristy types or obviously on long drives, and Daryl liked checking their license plates to see where they were from.

They'd planned to stop at a picnic spot and eat on the road with a view, but they both agreed it was too cold to get out of the truck and decided to wait and just eat when they got where they were going.

Daryl didn't protest at all when Carol, obviously having exhausted herself with her excitement, nodded off to sleep, leaning against the window and snoring slightly, though she would have protested until she died that she didn't snore.

He was glad she was asleep, actually, once they hit the really curvy roads. Hershel had been right and it had snowed in the area. Snow was something that Daryl wasn't overly familiar with and he certainly wasn't comfortable with. Sometimes it snowed in Georgia, but it wasn't all that common and when it happened he couldn't remember ever actually having driven in it.

Now he had to drive around really winding roads in the snow…at the twilight hours when it was hard to see…and it had him so tense he could barely breathe. His mind was feeding him terrible images of running the truck off the road and killing them all…and Daryl didn't care for any of the scenarios that his mind was offering him.

So he was glad that Carol was asleep and not witnessing his nerves as he crept along the road…lengthening the trip a good deal…at about thirty miles an hour at the fastest, tapping his brakes frequently to convince the cars building up behind him that they should either pass if they felt confident enough to do it or resign themselves to travelling along at the pace that he had set because he wasn't going any faster.

Finally, though, he'd found the cabin, off the road, just like Hershel said he would. He'd come to a complete stop at the start of the winding driveway that led to the little cabin and looked at the numbers on the old post out there for a good three or four minutes before he'd pulled in and driven up to the place. He didn't want to be at the wrong place and risk maybe encountering and startling some hot headed mountain person.

When Daryl pulled the truck to a stop in front of the little log cabin, he couldn't see too much because of the failing light. He shook Carol awake and she stirred.

"What's wrong?" She mumbled.

Daryl chuckled.

"We're here…get'cha ass out so we can go in an' get the place warmed up," Daryl said back to her.

He opened his door and got out, immediately opening the back door to the truck and getting a few of the things out that he could carry. Carol opened her door a moment later and got out. She opened the back door on her side.

"Don't get nothin'," Daryl protested. The ground was covered in snow and he didn't want her trying to carry anything and maybe slipping and falling.

"Why not?" She asked, her voice not entirely void of sleep.

"'Cause I don't want'cha ta slip an' get hurt," Daryl said. "I seen ya 'round the house an' ya 'bout fall over on the flat floor. This shit's ice an' ya could get hurt."

Carol sighed but didn't protest. She started toward the cabin and Daryl followed behind her, watching her every step and thinking that he'd feel much better once he had her inside.

When they got to the door, Daryl unlocked it and let Carol into the dark space. She immediately found light switches and Daryl left her checking out the place while he rushed back and forth, nearly slipping himself once, bringing in everything from the truck.

Once they were settled inside, Carol was walking around and making high pitched noises at everything.

The cabin was really a nice little place. It was a living area with a little kitchen attached and there was one bathroom. Off from the main room…the living area…there was a little bedroom visible and there was a loft area where Daryl imagined there was more space to sleep, but he didn't think he was going up there except to give it a quick once over to tell Hershel he'd checked everything…and he certainly wasn't letting Carol go up the ladder.

"Look at it! Oh, Daryl! It's so perfect!" Carol cooed while Daryl was walking around and checking everything that Hershel had told him to check and turning on the hot water heater as per instruction.

Everything looked to be fine, though, and he quickly turned his attention to starting a fire in the fireplace, chuckling a little from time to time at Carol who had walked every inch of the main floor of the place at least four times.

"Isn't it perfect?" She pressed.

Daryl got the fire started and worked on getting it blazing enough to somewhat warm the frozen place so that they wouldn't be forced to be shivering and bundled up the entire time.

"Yeah," he responded. "It's damn near perfect."

Carol walked over, standing beside him while he worked. He sat back on his heels, watching his little fire grow for a moment and wrapped his arm around her leg just enough to pull her a little closer to him. He kissed her leg through her pants and she reached down, scratching the top of his head.

"Do you think Lincoln's OK?" Carol asked. "It's the first night he's been without us."

Daryl chuckled.

"I think the fucker's just fine. He's prob'ly on the damn couch eatin' popcorn an' ice cream an' shit with Andrea an' don't even know we gone," Daryl said.

"I told her that she had to put his steps next to her bed so he could sleep with her," Carol said.

Daryl grunted a little.

"I'm sure she did, an' I bet he's gonna love it. From the tales they tell, Lincoln's the only dude in Sweet Junction that ain't been in Andrea's bed yet," Daryl said with a snort.

Carol responded by smacking him hard in the back of the head.

"Ow!" He protested, still chuckling and rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't be mean!" Carol said. "You know that's just people talking and it really hurts Andrea's feelings when you say things like that."

Daryl looked up at her. She sounded like her feelings were hurt.

"Easy," he said. "Was a joke…an' she ain't even heard me, I promise."

"I don't like it when you say that…" Carol said.

Daryl chuckled again, more at the fact that she seemed as genuinely upset right this moment as though he'd said it about her instead of Andrea.

"I'm sorry," Daryl said. "I promise…I ain't meant it. Was just a joke an' I wouldn't say nothin' like that ta Andrea. I know she don't like it."

Carol nodded at him and turned, walking back toward where he'd piled all their stuff near the door. Daryl turned around, staying where he was, and sat cross legged on the floor watching her. By the time that she wrestled the picnic basket loose and drug it over to where he was, her mood had lightened again.

Daryl got up and went into the kitchen, checking through all the cabinets until he found glasses and filled them with water so they'd have something to drink. He brought it over and joined Carol who was already sitting on the floor on the fluffy rug there, her back against the couch. She was digging through the basket.

"Sandwiches?" She asked, opening a piece of wax paper and passing him the two sandwiches stacked one on top of the other. He accepted them. "I knew they were yours," Carol said.

"'Cause there's two?" Daryl asked.

Carol shook her head and smiled.

"Because Miss Jo wrote your name on the wax paper and drew a heart," Carol said. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you and Jo Greene had something going on," she teased.

Daryl felt himself blush.

"Ain't nothin' like that," Daryl said.

"I know," Carol said, going back into the basket. "I'm just teasing you."

"She ain't a bad lookin' woman, though," Daryl said over a bite of his sandwich. Carol looked at him and smiled.

"You DO have a crush on her!" Carol exclaimed. "Daryl! She's my mother's age!"

Daryl chuckled, almost choking on his sandwich and had to wash it down quickly with some water.

"I didn't say that!" He protested. "I seen pictures of her, though, when she was younger…I'm just sayin' she ain't never been nothin' ta turn ya nose up at."

Carol pulled a sandwich out of the basket and turned toward him, cocking her eyebrow at him in the firelight.

"I don't know how I feel about this," Carol said, assuming a somewhat fake pout.

Daryl chuckled again.

"Ya know…ya oughta feel damn good about it," Daryl said.

"And why's that?" Carol asked, making no move to open her own sandwich though he was halfway done with his first.

"'Cause she looks like ya," Daryl said. "Or ya look like her…or however the fuck that works."

Carol narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" Daryl asked. "I'm serious. Ask ta see the picture a' when they got married. Sits up on the mantle in the dinin' room. She looks like ya…coulda been ya damn aunt or somethin'. So I'm just sayin' that she ain't bad ta look at…means ya ain't gon' be bad ta look at when we old neither."

Carol stared at him and then smiled.

"Do you look like Hershel?" She asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Nah…don't know who the fuck I look like," Daryl said. "Ya just gonna have ta fuckin' wait an' see what'cha get."

Carol smiled.

"I'm going to think you're handsome," Carol said. "I'll always think you're handsome."

"Might look like fuckin' Merle…an' who the hell knows where that train's goin' on down the line," Daryl said.

Carol chuckled.

"Merle's only a little older than you…and Merle's handsome too," Carol said. "Andrea doesn't like him just for his charming personality, you know."

Now it was Daryl's turn to give her a look.

"Ya lookin' at my fuckin' brother?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed and flipped her sandwich over to open it. Daryl caught a glance of the letters and a heart on the wax paper. He pointed.

"Ya got fuckin' hearts too!" He protested. "Givin' me shit an' she drew hearts on every damn thing in there I bet!"

Carol laughed so hard that she forgot about the sandwich for a minute. She covered her mouth, embarrassed by a snorting sound that she made.

"I was just teasing you…" Carol repeated. "You're the one that admitted you had a crush on Josephine Greene!"

"'Cause she fuckin' looks like ya!" Daryl said. "You the one said ya was checkin' Merle out!"

Carol laughed.

"I wasn't checking him out," Carol said. "I was just making an observation."

"Well," Daryl grumbled, "that's all the hell I was doin' too."

Carol started eating her sandwich in silence and Daryl resumed his interest in his food.

"If it makes you feel any better," Carol said after a moment, "I would have liked you best, no matter what."

Daryl scoffed at her and sucked his teeth, but he couldn't help but smile at her too.

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After they'd finished eating, there hadn't been much to do in the cabin. There wasn't a television, and neither of them felt like reading, so Daryl had moved beside Carol on the rug, wrapping his arm around her, and they'd settled in just silently cuddling. Daryl kept his hand on her belly, rubbing it every now and again and the few times that their daughter decided to stir, Carol would silently take his hand and press it to the spot where he could feel the now familiar bumping against it.

Daryl sighed. It was nice being in the cabin alone with Carol. The place was warm now from the fire and it was quiet and peaceful. There was just something about the space that made it feel inviting and comfortable.

Daryl turned and kissed the side of Carol's face, just at the temple, inhaling the smell of her hair as he did.

Carol turned, smiling softly at him, and brought her lips to his. At first she simply kissed him softly, but then he felt her tease his lips with her tongue and he let her pass it into his mouth, teasing his tongue against it.

Daryl was surprised when Carol moved and straddled his legs, sitting back on her heels which placed her also on his thighs. She kissed him slowly and lazily and their tongues danced together. She slid her hands under his shirt, pushing it up, and he hissed a little at her when she gently twisted his nipples between her fingertips, not breaking entirely with the kiss.

Daryl knew that Carol was getting into the kiss and he knew what was on her mind when, without breaking the kiss and ignoring the fact that they were fully clothed, she rose up a little from him before bring herself back down, grinding into him.

It was Daryl that broke the kiss then, pushing her back a little. In the firelight her eyes were glimmering at him and she was panting, her expression the drunk look that she got when she was turned on and wanting more. Daryl reached between them and caught the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up. She raised her arms and let him pull it over her head, dropping it on the floor.

Daryl leaned up and let her do the same for him, freeing him from his own shirt. Carol reached around and unhooked her bra for him, letting it join the clothes they'd already shed and freeing her much fuller breasts for his viewing pleasure.

Daryl reached up and gently massaged her breasts in his hands and she hissed, pushing herself into him, her belly rubbing against him with the motion. She brought her lips back to his, sighing as he returned the kiss that she started.

"Gotta get outta our pants," Daryl said into her ear as he brought his mouth to it, letting his tongue dart out and lick her ear lobe. She moaned but pulled away from him a second later, working her way out of her pants and underwear without any attempt to save some kind of decorum.

Daryl followed her lead and lost his own quickly. When they were both naked, Carol reached over and stroked him, bringing her mouth back to his and he reached toward her, finding the magical button that made her gasp and make a throaty sound at him.

Daryl let her go…he let her be in control…because that's what she looked like she wanted at the moment. Normally she protested such a position, but right now she didn't. Before he even really knew for sure that she was going to do it, Carol raised herself up and straddled him, lowering herself onto him, her hands on his shoulders.

Carol moaned and mewed more than Daryl thought he'd heard her ever do it before, but it was making him feel amazing. Carol was into it and the fact that her face looked lost in the feeling between them just made Daryl think it was that much more electric as she held to him, riding him, every now and again bringing her lips to his before she threw her head back with another moan.

In fact, he was enjoying whatever it was that was happening to her at the moment so much that he wasn't sure he was going to be able to hold out long enough to get her where she wanted to go. He leaned a little, bring his mouth to catch one of her nipples and she called out. He brought his hand down, rubbing her and trying to keep pace with her as she quickened her own movements, starting to whine and almost growl at him, the friction against him making him growl in response.

Daryl closed his eyes and used every ounce of energy within him to keep from letting go before she did, and when she finally clenched hard around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, crying out at him, he let himself go…not even caring that the sounds that escaped him were much less than manly and mixed with her own cries.

And after they'd come down from it all, soaking wet from sweat from exertion and the heat radiating off the fire, Carol remained in his lap, panting and curling against him.

Swallowing and still panting, Daryl wrapped his arms around her. He was surprised, for a moment, to feel that where her belly was pressed against him, he could feel the baby moving. They'd, no doubt, disturbed any sleep that she was hoping to get.

Daryl moved his head a little and kissed the side of Carol's head lightly, just where he could reach without disturbing how she was curled into him.

"Thank ya for agreein' ta marry me," Daryl said, kissing her face again.

Carol turned her head slightly and kissed his neck, her breath coming in short bursts as she was still slowing her panting.

"I'd do it again," she said. "Everyday…forever."

Daryl chuckled softly and rubbed her back with his hand.

"Me too," he said.


	121. Chapter 121

**AN: So here's another little chapter for you.**

**Admittedly, this one kind of started to fill a sort of request for EnglishPoet18 who needed a little more Merle/Andrea in her life. After I thought about it, though, it fit and it was something that needed to be explored and it was something that was ready to be explored in the story. So that's what I did. I'm not sure if it's what she had in mind exactly, LOL. **

**Anyway, this chapter is a Merle/Andrea chapter, but I promise, as always, our favorite couple is still there and will be back! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!**

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Andrea could easily admit that her preparations for Carol and Daryl being out of town made it look less like she was an adult simply staying alone in her house for a few evenings and more like she was a young teenager whose parents were leaving her unsupervised for the first time, but she didn't care. She'd gone to the video store and rented several movies that she hadn't seen…mostly because they were either probably super corny or too scary and Carol wouldn't have wanted to watch them with her. She'd also swung by the A and P and was stocked up with enough junk food to feed to a slumber party packed with young girls…but it was only her and Lincoln that would be surfing on the couch.

Andrea rummaged through Carol's drawers and found her favorite oversized sweatpants that Carol had somehow laid claim to. She slipped them on, not even caring that she was walking around the house naked. She dug one of the t shirts out of her own laundry basket that she'd "borrowed" from Merle, and put on a pair of her favorite socks that had snowflakes on the bottom that were supposed to keep her from slipping as readily as she padded around the house.

She moved Lincoln's steps over to the side of the couch that she didn't want to inhabit, and that she hadn't already made into a nice spot with blankets and a pillow for herself, and drug one of the dining room chairs into the living room to serve her as a footrest.

All that settled, she put the popcorn in the microwave and paced impatiently, waiting on it to finish popping while Lincoln sat on the floor near her feet and watched her every move.

"Your furry ass better sleep with me tonight," Andrea said to the dog, not minding having a conversation with him when there was no one around to mention it. "That movie looks freaking scary and I'm not sleeping by myself."

Lincoln just looked at her…though it wasn't like she expected him to speak. He was in this for the treats, that's all there was to it. Andrea smiled at his droopy eyes watching her.

"Worst comes to worst and I'll dab peanut butter behind my ears," Andrea said. "Then you'll sleep with me."

When the microwave dinged, Andrea yanked the bag out and ran, almost, to the couch, thankful for the snowflakes on her socks that probably kept her from having to explain to a paramedic how she broke her neck.

Andrea settled into her nest quickly and Lincoln joined her shortly after, bounding up his steps and plopping down with his head on her leg. She slipped him a few pieces of popcorn and started the movie, hoping this wasn't something she was going to regret.

After a while of watching the movie, Andrea was out of popcorn. She was thirsty and wanted something else to eat, but she was far too into the movie to move…and she was a little afraid to move. She loved and hated scary movies all at the same time. They absolutely terrified her and made her as afraid of the dark as if she'd been six years old, but she loved the rush and the thrill of being scared too and she couldn't look away once she'd gotten started.

It would have all been fine, too, if Lincoln hadn't started acting strange. He'd lost interest in Andrea and the movie both when the popcorn had run out and she'd let him stick his head in the bag to investigate whether or not she was telling the truth about the status of "no more" that had come upon them. He'd fallen asleep with her absentmindedly petting him until all of a sudden.

Once he perked up, without warning, Andrea got a little jumpy. She hoped that something on the movie had startled him and he'd settle down, but that wasn't the case at all. The short legged hound woofed a couple of times before flying down his steps and running back and forth between the two most used doors in the house.

Andrea did the only thing that a person in her situation could do for a second. She pulled the blanket up and watched the dog, wide eyed.

Daryl and Carol certainly weren't supposed to be back and Axel was working third at the mill. There shouldn't be anyone outside and now she was cursing herself for watching fucking slasher movies alone.

Andrea kept trying to calm herself, but when Lincoln went to the door that led to the carport and started baying at it, she couldn't remain calm.

She remembered that Ed was out there somewhere and it wouldn't be too far of a jump to think the man had figured out where they lived. They lived in Sweet Junction, after all, and nothing was exactly a secret, even if you were well known for being a motherfucker.

Andrea got up, suddenly genuinely worried about the way the dog was acting. She heard something outside and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't alone. If it had simply been her that heard the noises, she might have contributed it to nerves over the movie, but Lincoln hadn't even watched the damn thing.

Andrea eased down the dark hallway as quietly as she could and slipped into her bedroom, taking the gun from her nightstand that Rick had given her at their gun classes. She swallowed hard and checked to make sure it was loaded. Satisfied that it was, she slipped back into the main part of the house and to the heavy wooden door that was deadbolted and locked with a sliding chain.

Andrea held her breath and moved the chain with as little noise as she possibly could. She swallowed again and slowly turned the deadbolt, hoping to surprise Ed with a gun pointed at his face before he could figure out any way to surprise her.

Hearing the deadbolt click out of place, Andrea slid Lincoln with her foot and moved around. She quickly opened the wooden door and flung it back, bringing the gun up and saddling it in her hands the way that Rick had taught them.

She had it aimed squarely at her would be assailant who was standing at the door with the glass door propped against his back.

"Fuckin' hell!" Merle spat.

Andrea gasped but thankfully didn't pull the trigger. Merle reached up and pushed her hands so that the gun was no longer pointing at him and Andrea tried to get her breath.

"What the fuck ya tryin' ta kill me for?" Merle spat.

"What the fuck are you doing sneaking around my house in the middle of the damn night?" Andrea spat back.

"Was lookin' for the fuckin' extra key," Merle said. "Daryl said the shit was out here."

Andrea dropped one hand from the gun that she hadn't lowered yet, though it pointed away from Merle, and reached the hand around, dipping it inside the rim of a light fixture right by the door. She pulled it out, holding the extra key up and Merle smiled.

"Too damn obvious," Merle said, taking the key. He pushed past her and came inside, dropping the key on the counter. "Find a better fuckin' hidin' place or ever' damn crook an' son of a bitch in Sweet Junction's gonna break inta the fuckin' place."

Andrea put the gun down on the counter now and Merle moved it farther away from both of them. Andrea closed the wooden door again and slid the locks into place. They'd gotten into the habit of hardly ever leaving the doors unlocked simply because they all worried about the possible return of Ed at any given time and without any warning.

"I could have shot your ass," Andrea said.

"Tell me 'bout it," Merle responded. "An' here I was, comin' over here ta make sure ya was alright. Ya ought not be here by ya fuckin' self…ya know Ed Peletier's a crazy bastard. What would ya done if it was him an' not me?"

"I'd have shot him," Andrea responded, matter of factly.

Merle chuckled a little, casting a sideways glance at Andrea and she huffed. Her heart was racing from the entire event, but she didn't want to admit it.

"Well…now what?" Andrea asked. "You interrupted my movie."

Merle smiled at her, looking at her sideways. It was the damn little sly smile that she had to fight to ignore if she didn't want Merle invading her brain.

"Reckon since I'm here, an' since ya damn near killed me…I'ma stay a bit," Merle said. "Watcha fuckin' movie with ya."

Andrea wanted to protest. It wasn't so much that she really didn't like the idea of Merle staying to watch what was left of the movie…she'd actually appreciate some company for her poor movie selection choices…it was that it was Merle, and she was afraid that things would get out of control, namely out of her control, if she let him stay.

Andrea sighed.

"Fine," she said. She pointed her finger at him and narrowed her eyes, trying to make herself hold as much authority as possible. "We're watching the movie, though, and that's it. You can go home after it's over…and I'm not starting it over."

Merle chuckled and nodded his head a little, reaching up and closing his hand over the one that she had pointed at him.

For just a second he stood there, her hand in his, looking at the two of them like he didn't know what to do. Then the smile returned to his face and sucked his teeth a little.

"OK…don't get'cha panties twisted, sugah…" Merle drawled. "We'll watcha lil' chick flick…but I ain't goin' home tonight 'less ya goin' with me."

Andrea looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not going anywhere," she responded.

"Well…" Merle responded. "Me either."

Andrea opened her mouth to protest, but Merle shushed her, smiling as he did so…that damn devilish smile that showed that he was already light years ahead of her in this argument.

"Ain't leavin' ya here alone," Merle said, shaking his head. "Came all the way 'cross fuckin' town ta make sure Ed Pel-e-tee-ay wasn't over here with his damn hands 'round ya fuckin' throat. Don't reckon I'm goin' no damn where."

Andrea huffed. She didn't have a response, so she simply didn't say anything. She went to the refrigerator and fished out the jug of tea that she'd made earlier, fixing them both drinks in silence, and she gathered up a couple of the bags of chips that she'd been craving since before Merle had shown up on the doorstep. She went back to the couch and Merle joined her, pushing Lincoln farther down to the no man's land portion of the couch and settling in next to her in the dark.

Andrea rewound the movie back to where she was before and tried to ignore that Merle was sitting beside her on the couch. It was the only possible way that she could keep herself from falling into some kind of Merle trap.

She also ignored when he slid his arm around the back of the couch and then settled it down on her shoulders in possibly the oldest move known to man. Instead, she focused her attention on the bag of chips like she hadn't eaten in days and tried to focus on whether or not the people in the television were intelligent enough to know that the killer is always right behind them.

Andrea shivered a little when she felt Merle's fingertips rubbing her ear. He had settled in close enough to her that they were huddled together and she could feel his warmth. She could smell him even over the oniony scent of the chips and her own breath. She wasn't paying the movie any damn attention anymore. Now her only focus was on figuring out what to do about the fact that she was sitting huddled with Merle on a couch in the dark.

Finally, Merle shifted a little and his hand slipped down behind her, dropping to her rib cage and pulling her into him a little. Andrea cleared her throat and moved the chips to the back of the couch, hoping that Lincoln wasn't going to take up mountain climbing and go after them if she stopped paying attention.

"What are you doing?" Andrea asked, turning a little toward Merle.

Merle's only response to the question was to bring his lips crashing against hers, his tongue invading her mouth. Andrea hated the electricity that shot through her when he did that. She hated that he had that effect on her with so damn little effort. She pulled out of the kiss, almost against her own will.

Merle chuckled.

"Damn girl," he said. "Taste like a fuckin' onion patch."

"It's asshole repellant," Andrea responded, realizing that she could smell her own breath and thinking that Merle Dixon was a desperate man if he tried to kiss her again.

And he did move in to kiss her again, but she turned her head quickly and he growled at her, his eyes shining in the light of the television set.

"What the fuck, Andrea?" Merle asked. "How fuckin' long ya gotta keep this shit up? Ain't not a damn soul in this fuckin' house but me an' you an' the damn stinkin' hound."

Andrea thought it was almost amusing that Merle didn't know how hard she had to fight this, or what she was fighting it for. The truth was that, at least some degree, she wasn't entirely sure what she was fighting it for.

"What do you want, Merle?" Andrea asked.

Merle chuckled a little and slipped his hand down to her thigh. He squeezed it a moment and then slid his hand between her legs, unashamedly brushing his fingers down the inside of her thigh until he rubbed against her. Andrea's breath caught in the throat when he rubbed her clit through the fabric.

"Ya know what I want…" Merle said, his voice low and gravelly. "An' ya want it too."

Andrea swallowed. Her head was spinning.

She let him kiss her again this time when he leaned in for it. She was caught off guard a second later when he pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and then dug his fingers into her curls, yanking her head back and licking her throat before she could protest any of the chain of actions.

"No…" Andrea said, almost feeling choked by the angle of her throat.

Merle stopped, but didn't let go of her hair that was holding her in the uncomfortable position.

"Don't pull my hair," Andrea struggled to get out. Merle let go of her hair and she straightened her head, locking her eyes on him. "I want something different," she said.

Merle scratched at his lower lip with his teeth.

"Hell," he said after a second. He looked at her and chuckled slightly. "Somethin' different for you, sugah? They ain't enough damn shit in the book."

Andrea ignored the front put on as a defense mechanism. She swallowed, maintaining eye contact with him even though she could see that it was making him a little uncomfortable.

"If you want to do this…" Andrea said. She paused. "If we're going to do this…then I want something different."

Merle looked at her now, all amusement having left his face.

"What'cha got in mind?" He asked.

Andrea tipped her head to the side.

"I want you to be…easy…gentle," Andrea said.

Merle grunted a little.

Andrea had never asked that of anyone before. She couldn't really be sure if it was something that she didn't like or if it was something that she'd told herself she didn't like because it had never been offered to her. It had never been something that she felt she had the authority to demand from anyone.

All the men that she'd ever been with…all the way back to clumsy high school fucks with guys looking to notch their dashes or break their virgin statuses had been rough. They'd never cared enough not to be. A fuck was a fuck…and a fuck when you didn't give a damn about the other person was all about getting the hell off…there wasn't time for gentle in that.

So Andrea's response had been to convince herself…and she'd done it pretty well…that those kinds of fucks were her favorite kinds of fucks. The rougher the better. The less he gave a shit, the more she liked it. She wasn't going to complain. She'd never have nothing but a smile and a thank you while she was putting her clothes back on.

Thank you for the fuck…thank you for the attention. Thank you for not even pretending to give a damn so that neither of us has to be confused for even a second about what the hell just happened here. Thank you for being just like every other person in the whole damn world. Thank you.

And yet, here she was…for the first time in her life…asking it of the most unlikely candidate. But Andrea had no doubt that Merle knew how to be a gentle lover.

There was no hiding the fact that the man was an experienced lover…he bragged about his conquests, but there was truth behind his boasting, and Andrea imagined that he'd worn every hat imaginable at some point…every hat available to man even…if it meant making a conquest.

And now she was requesting that he change hats so that she could feel something different…even if she knew, deep down, that Merle was merely changing his costume.

Merle didn't say anything for a moment, but he maintained the eye contact that he found so uncomfortable and then reached out, stroking a scratchy thumb across her cheekbone before he leaned in, kissing her again.

"How's that bed holdin' tagethah?" Merle said, his voice low and gravelly in his throat.

Andrea swallowed.

"Why don't you come and find out?" She asked.

Merle got up from the couch and reached a hand out to her and she took it, letting him help her up. She grabbed the food off the couch without saying anything and tossed it at the dining room table as they passed by it toward the back part of the house…Merle not stopping in his slow leading of her to the bedroom.

When they got in her room, bathed only in the little bit of light that came through her window from the street lights outside, Merle stopped and cupped her face in his hands, bringing his lips back to hers. She felt him, without breaking the kiss, bring his hands down and find the bottom of her shirt and she let him lift it over her head.

He shed his own shirt while she rid herself of her bra. There was no need to pretend that either of them were modest…that they hadn't seen each other naked before…or that they didn't know where this was headed.

So skipping all false shows, Andrea went ahead and shimmied out of her pants and underwear, regretting instantly that she'd given up shaving since she'd split with Merle, but it was too late to worry about that now. Merle was out of his clothes quickly too and then he guided her back to the bed and she crawled onto it, sighing a little at the feeling of him moving over her, kissing her neck, sucking at her ear and gently catching it between his teeth…so different than the painful bites she was accustomed to.

He moved his hand down to her core and stroked her and she didn't fight her natural urge to buck and grind against him.

Merle chuckled softly, kissing her shoulder and licking down her collar bone before bringing his mouth up just to her ear.

"Ya gone native," he whispered.

"Sorry," Andrea muttered, once again regretting that her break up with the man had essentially also been a break up with her razor.

"I like it," Merle responded, dipping his head and licking and sucking at her nipples.

Andrea wallowed her head back on the bed, not even caring that they hadn't bothered to properly get into the bed. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of his mouth make her brain spin. He knew what he was doing…this wasn't unfamiliar territory for Merle.

For what seemed like hours, Andrea was lost and swimming in the pleasure that Merle rained down on her…so different than the man she knew and yet somehow the same. His mouth, his hands…his mind completely on her. When he finally moved her around, without even speaking and pushed himself into her, she gasped at the full circle of feelings that went on in her brain without even asking her permission to be there.

And when Andrea opened her eyes, moving to pick up the rhythm that Merle had established, what surprised her most was that in the dim light of the room he was looking at her. Now the uncomfortable eye contact of earlier gone, he had his eyes locked on hers. She fought the urge to close her eyes again as they moved together…enjoying almost as much the way he was looking at her as the sensations that were coursing through her body.

And when she finally came, harder than she'd ever come before but with a lingering sensation of something different…she could only pant and moan at the continuing sensation that lasted even after he'd come, and spent from the sexual act itself, still rubbed his body against hers a moment before kissing her jaw and then bringing his lips back to hers.

Andrea didn't know what to say or even how to say it, and Merle didn't offer any words. When he was done, without even asking permission or commenting on the act that had just taken place, he crawled over her and settled himself into the bed. Andrea followed suit and crawled in beside him, her back against him.

He was snoring moments later, but Andrea lingered awake for a bit, wandering if she could believe anything that her foolish heart told her was true at the moment. Part of her felt there had been something there…some connection…something different. Part of her told her that the words that went unspoken between them were the same words for them both…but the other part reminded her that Merle was a man who had, no doubt, worn many hats in his life and this was just another that he dusted off when it was necessary.

Andrea knew she couldn't solve the feelings for herself, though, and that lying there and pondering them while Merle snored softly beside her would do little more than cause her to lose sleep. She sighed, finally, and worked her way backwards, closer against him, closing her eyes and falling asleep.


	122. Chapter 122

**AN: OK, here's another little update for you all! I may get to update tomorrow, but I'm not sure. Busy weekend here for me, so I probably won't update until maybe Sunday night, but probably Monday.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"No," Carol moaned. "I don't want to leave…"

They were lying in bed, the light streaming through the dirty plate glass window near them, and Daryl had only suggested that they get up for breakfast and talk about anything she might want to do before they had to leave the next morning.

Carol's sleepy response had been to pull the cover up almost entirely over her head, close her eyes tight, and declare that she didn't want to leave.

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle in response, leaning up on his elbow over her. He reached over and rubbed her cheek, almost the only part of her he could see between blankets and the mess of hair, and snickered.

"Ya don't wanna leave the bed or ya don't wanna leave the cabin?" Daryl asked.

"Yes to both," Carol responded. She sighed and stayed in her position for a moment before rolling over onto her back and looking at Daryl, her eyes still swollen from sleep.

"They's a lil' spot down the road a piece," Daryl said. "Looks like it ain't nothin' nice as Lula's, but I thought we could walk down there an' get somethin' good for breakfast."

He eyed her and started to roll back over, knowing that food was likely to get her attention.

"But if ya don't wanna leave…" Daryl said.

Carol snickered at him.

"I don't mind leaving temporarily," Carol said. "Can we walk?"

"Ain't sure how far away it is," he protested. "An' it's all snowy an' shit out there. I ain't wantin' ya bustin' ya ass."

Carol stuck her bottom lip out at him, fighting the smile that was making her face curl a little.

"I'll be with you," she said after a second. "I'm not going to fall down the hill like Jack and Jill, Daryl. I love the snow, though, and you've barely let me go outside since we got here. We can be careful. Besides…exercise is important for me and the baby and we haven't gotten much exercise since we got here."

Daryl chuckled and shook his head.

"I reckon we got plenty a' exercise," Daryl said. "Damn woman, ya 'bout wore me out."

"Come on, Daryl!" Carol protested, pushing up to rest on her elbows. "I want to walk in the snow with you!"

Daryl sighed.

"Fine, but we goin' slow an' ya holdin' my hand," he responded.

Carol smiled and nodded. She leaned over, kissing him and nipping at his lip as she pulled away.

"Let's get dressed," she said. "I'm hungry."

Daryl chuckled and jerked his pillow from behind him, smacking her with it. She grinned at him.

"Ya always fuckin' hungry!" Daryl responded.

Carol's only response was to get out of the bed then, going in search of the warmest clothes she could find for their hike.

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Carol walked along, down the middle of the road, with her arm looped in Daryl's. It was beautiful. There was just enough snow laying everywhere on the ground that the whole place was like a winter wonderland. Every now and again small flakes fluttered down around them, and even though she was cold, Carol thought it was the most refreshing feeling in the world.

This "honeymoon" that they were having, in her opinion, couldn't have gone better if it had been planned by someone who did this professionally. Everything was absolutely perfect, even if it was nothing special at all.

The cabin was darling. It was the perfect escape. There was no television, there was no one calling, there was nothing to deal with. As much as she loved her friends back home, she was realizing with the silence that the cabin offered just how much hustle and bustle their bunch provided.

Here it was just her and Daryl…and Lil' Bit when she decided she wanted to stir around a bit. They'd spent the whole time doing nothing, but it was the best nothing that she could have ever dreamed of.

It had been a honeymoon complete of making love…drinking hot chocolate on the porch despite the cold…and making love some more, and Carol didn't think her heart could have stood too much more of it or it might simply have burst from simply realizing how much she loved Daryl and how much she loved her life now.

And now they were walking down the middle of the road, since there was nothing really to report in the way of traffic, down the mountain a little piece to a small diner where they'd feast on breakfast with the locals and then trek back up together to probably burn off breakfast with some more of their recent activities.

Carol sighed and smiled to herself, hugging Daryl's arm tighter to her and rubbing her cheek against his shoulder a little as they walked.

"Ya OK?" Daryl asked.

Carol glanced at him.

"I'm perfect," she responded.

"Ya ain't too tired?" Daryl asked, wrinkling his brow.

"I'm fine, Daryl," Carol protested. "I'm better than fine."

Daryl nodded his head a little and they continued on, quiet for a bit. The walk to the diner or the restaurant, or whatever it was that Daryl had seen on the drive up, was downhill. Honestly, Carol imagined that it wasn't going to be the challenging part of the journey at all. She was sure it was going to be a lot more effort when they headed back up.

Carol never saw the ice, but when she went down, she took Daryl down with her. The only difference being that he hit his feet again before he'd barely hit the ground. If she hadn't been concentrating, for the moment on the almost certain death of her tailbone, she would have laughed at the fact that Daryl had the reflexes of a rubber ball at the moment.

"Christ! Are ya OK?" Daryl spat, turning toward her quickly and nearly wrenching her arm out of the socket trying to pull her up before her brain nor her body had decided she was ready for that action.

"Stop pulling my arm!" She protested, still hissing at her rear end. Daryl eased up a little and she leaned forward a second.

"ARE YA OK?" Daryl repeated, somewhat frantic.

Carol chuckled a little, whining at the end of it over the fact that she was pretty certain she'd broken her ass if that was possible and she'd clacked her teeth together hard on impact.

"I'm fine," she said. "I think I broke my ass."

"That shit ain't funny!" Daryl said. He reached back and caught her arm again and she offered him the other hand too so that he could actually pull her up without dislocating anything. When she was standing she rubbed the spot where she'd landed.

"Are you OK?" Carol asked. Daryl had fallen too, and he'd gone all the way down, though she wasn't sure he even realized it at the moment.

"I'm fine," Daryl said, his voice still higher pitched than nnormal. "Is the baby OK? What about the baby? She OK?"

"Calm down," Carol said. "I'm sure she's fine, and besides jamming my butt up into my neck, and you ripping my arm off, I'm fine."

"Sorry," Daryl said, still not looking calm.

Carol's knees were shaking just over the nerves of the fall, but she wasn't going to admit that to Daryl. She felt far sorrier for him at the moment than she felt for herself. If she hadn't known him any better, and hadn't known that there was no way he was going to do it, she might have thought he'd cry for a minute from the wide array of expressions that were sweeping over his face. He was standing awkwardly beside her, hovering his hands around her like he didn't know what to do.

Carol reached out with the hand she wasn't using to rub her aching backside and squeezed Daryl's arm.

"Breathe, Daryl," Carol said. "I'm fine…it's OK? Alright?"

Daryl bit at his thumb in response and Carol reached up, catching his hand and holding it in hers to keep him from possibly drawing blood.

"We oughta go back," Daryl offered.

Carol chuckled.

"Why, Daryl?" She asked. "We've got to be getting close…let's just go and get breakfast. I'll pass out from starvation if we try to climb back up this mountain without eating."

Daryl looked at her, his eyebrows tightly knit together.

"Ya sure ya OK?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled and nodded.

"I'm fine, Daryl," she said.

Carol moved then and wrapped her arm around Daryl's back and he put his around hers. She could feel him tighten his grip around her, his hand coming around her side. He was tense to the touch and she felt sorry for him, and sorry that she'd done it to him.

They continued on, very slowly and without saying anything, until they reached the tiny hole in the wall diner that Daryl had seen. He silently let go of Carol and pulled the door to the establishment open, revealing a place to Carol that made Lula's seem like a four star restaurant. The place was fairly clean, though, and the six or so people inside looked cheerful, so Carol was pleased with the little establishment and almost immediately started to ignore her throbbing backside.

She directed Daryl to a booth that was empty, one of the only booths in the place, and slid in.

Daryl sat across from her, very obviously fretting. He picked up the menu, but she'd have believed he was actually reading it just as much if he'd had it upside down.

"Please stop worrying," Carol said finally, reaching across and catching his hand in hers. "Please? We've only got one day left here and I don't want you to spend it worrying. I slipped…it's fine…I fell out of the bathtub a week ago and probably landed harder than that…"

Daryl looked at her like she'd just told him the most terrible thing he'd ever heard in his life.

"Ya didn't tell me ya fell out the fuckin' tub!" Daryl responded.

Carol chuckled and leaned toward him a little.

"Because I knew you would react like this," she urged. "I'm clumsy, Daryl…I feel like an ox or something…I'm going to fall down sometimes."

Daryl shook his head.

"Ya ain't s'posed ta fall down! What if the baby's hurt?" Daryl asked.

"She's fine, Daryl," Carol said. "We're both fine, but I don't want you worrying anymore."

Daryl sighed a heavy sigh.

"Ya goin' ta the doctor Tuesday mornin'," Daryl said. "Gon' make sure she's OK."

Carol sighed.

"It's not that serious, Daryl," she said. "Don't you think I'd be upset if I thought it was something serious?"

Daryl shook his head and chuckled a little, but it wasn't a genuine laugh.

"I don't care," Daryl said. "Ya goin' or we goin' home right now an' ya goin' in the mornin'."

Carol rolled her eyes at him and groaned.

"Fine," she said. "I'll call up there Tuesday morning and see if I can get an appointment."

Daryl nodded slightly at her, still not looking entirely relieved.

"Can you please stop worrying now? Let us enjoy the rest of our trip?" Carol asked.

When Daryl looked at her again like she was crazy, she chuckled.

"Fine, don't stop worrying, then," she said. "Just put it on hold until Tuesday. Do you think you could do that?"

Daryl sighed and reached his hand across the table, taking hers up and pulling it toward him. He rubbed it between his hands gently to warm up her fingers.

"I just don't want'cha ta get hurt an' I can't help but worry. I don't want nothin' ta happen ta neither one a' ya," Daryl said.

Carol moved her hand then and caught his, bringing it to her. She kissed his fingers quickly and then turned his hand over, realizing she felt something rougher than usual. The palm of his hand had gotten pretty well chewed up in one spot from the asphalt, but he hadn't mentioned that. Carol smiled at him softly and shook her head.

"That's only one of the many reasons I love you," Carol said. "But I don't want you to worry too much, OK? I'm not a china doll."

"Might not be," Daryl said, "but'cha far more important ta me than any damn doll…an' I'ma worry whether ya like it or not."

Carol nodded slightly, still smiling at him. He returned the smile, though.

"Let's get some breakfast?" Carol asked. "I'm starving."

Daryl nodded slightly and craned around the booth, trying to find a waitress and get her attention. Carol knew he wasn't done worrying…but maybe he could at least put it on hold for a bit.

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Carol hadn't pushed Daryl when he'd said he'd feel better if they not make love because he didn't want to jostle the baby anymore for the day. He had some fear, one that she was going to ask Bobbie to address in some manner, that the baby could be "shook loose" as he put it, and she wasn't going to push him.

He'd at least calmed down that evening when she'd lied down on the couch, pulling her shirt up and he'd been able to see the twitches every now and again of the baby who was stirring around. Their daughter had, as was customary, settled down some time ago, but Carol remained in her position on the couch and Daryl sat on the floor, his head leaned on his arm that rested on the couch, looking at her and talking with her in the quiet of their last night in the cabin.

Carol ran her fingers through Daryl's hair, not minding what they did or that they really weren't doing anything. She really was enjoying this just as much as she might have enjoyed any activity that they could have done.

"You know what?" Carol asked after they'd been silent for a few minutes.

"What?" Daryl asked, his voice a little groggy. She assumed that having been stressed for the better part of the day and coming down from that, coupled by the relaxing air of the cabin and the fact that she was massaging his scalp, which he always enjoyed, was making him tired.

"You're going to be a wonderful Daddy," Carol said.

Daryl shifted his head a little, resting his chin on his arm instead of his cheek and looked at her.

"Ya don't know that," he said.

Carol smiled.

"Yes I do," she said. "You already love her and you haven't even seen her…you're going to be even more crazy about her when you see her."

Carol tried, whenever possible, to talk up to Daryl how good of a father he was going to be. She knew that for him it was a very big spot of worry and she wanted to do everything possible…everything in the world…to feed his enthusiasm about the baby and to reassure him that he was going to be the father of the year every year.

Luckily Michonne and Andrea understood it too, so they fed it as well…as did Tyreese. She wasn't sure about Merle, but she could only hope that the man would have enough sense to see how important it was to Daryl, and how much he worried about it deep down, and how truly necessary it was to make sure that nothing killed Daryl's enthusiasm over his daughter.

"I've seen her," Daryl said. He yawned. "We got that picture."

Carol smiled.

"Oh, but wait until we get to have her here and we get to talk about whose eyes she got, or whose mouth and nose…wait until you get to hold her," Carol said, catching his yawn and mirroring it.

"I don't know nothin' 'bout babies," Daryl said. "I might fuck it up big time…ya don't know."

Carol shifted a little, dropping her hand to catch his.

"You love her, Daryl…the rest is just details. You'll figure all that out. It's the love that really matters," Carol said.

Daryl took her hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing her fingers.

"She's gonna have one hell of a Mama too, ya know," Daryl said.

Carol smiled at him.

"I think she's going to be one pretty lucky little girl," Carol said.

"Ya might be right," Daryl said. He was quiet for a minute and then he chuckled to himself.

"What's so funny?" Carol asked.

Daryl shook his head a little.

"Was just thinkin' that her Grandpa Hershel's gonna have her a damn pony 'fore she's two an' her Aunt 'Chonne's prob'ly gonna buy her the damn stable ta go with that shit," Daryl said, chuckling.

Carol echoed his laugh and then groaned.

"Better than her Uncle Merle making sure her first words are 'fuck you'," Carol responded.

Daryl laughed.

"An' they gon' be directed at her Aunt Andrea…what the fuck we doin' ta this kid?" Daryl asked.

"Making sure her life is never boring," Carol responded.

Daryl chuckled and kissed her fingers again.

"Ya can say that again!" He responded.


	123. Chapter 123

**AN: Hi everyone! Things are, as always now, still nuts over here. I wanted to get you out a chapter here though to keep us moving right along. **

**This chapter is a Merle/Daryl chapter, but it was one that had to happen. It's pretty long, but a lot needed to go into it! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think! **

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Merle got out of T-Dog's car and waved at the man, thanking him for the ride. He rubbed his hands together, aching from the cold and from having stood outside too long at the job site shooting the shit with several of the men he worked with far too long after they'd called it quits for the day.

Merle made his way up Daryl's driveway, able to look in the window and see that the kitchen was hopping with activity. That's one thing Merle Dixon could say about his baby brother. His house was never empty and never boring. Merle couldn't say the same about his own quiet apartment across town…the one that right now was waiting on him, and him alone.

Merle lit a cigarette and lingered outside a bit. Beyond the kitchen window, no one was even aware that Merle was out there. They'd apparently missed T-Dog's quick stop at the road to let him out. He didn't know what they were doing, but he could see Carol, Andrea, and Axel clearly through the window and they all looked happy about something. He could imagine that Daryl was somewhere just out of view, enjoying his evening.

Merle was trying to be a lot of things these days. He was trying to change his life…to turn it around. He'd thought, his entire life, that he was supposed to take care of Daryl. He'd thought that he was supposed to teach his brother how to be a man and how to live his life right…like a Dixon.

Merle chuckled to himself, his breath fogging in the cold December air. Who in their right fucking mind would want to be a Dixon if they were given the choice? The stupid set of fucking rules by which they lived their lives certainly hadn't gotten anyone anywhere up to now.

But things, for Merle, were changing. He was starting to realize that maybe it wasn't him that was going to teach Daryl a damn thing. As far as Dixons went, his brother was already a grand failure. He had a job…and though it might not be the best job anyone ever had, it was steady. He was married to a woman that he seemed to love…a foreign concept for a Dixon. Furthermore he was married to the only damn woman that Merle had ever really seen his brother pay any attention to, that one sorry night with Mary Ann Walsh excluded since the pitifulness of the whole damn situation left Merle and Andrea both shaking their heads when they'd overheard it. And now his baby brother had a baby on the way, and he was so damn excited about the kid he almost shook like a Chihuahua when his ass talked about it.

Maybe it was Daryl that was teaching Merle a few things, though he wouldn't have wanted to admit it to the little shit for fear that he'd never live that down from Daryl.

But Merle didn't know what the hell to do with any of it. He felt like it was something he couldn't even wrap his mind around. It was something he thought he might want…something he thought he might like. Hell he was jealous as hell over everything that Daryl had sometimes…but it was something that he didn't know how to have or how to let himself have.

Merle had never been under the impression that he wasn't an asshole. God knows he'd heard it enough from every fucking person he'd ever met and he knew it was true. He was comfortable being an asshole. It was how the hell he'd made it this damn long without turning into some kind of pansy ass pussy. If you're an asshole then people tend to leave you the hell alone, and as long as the fuckers keep their distance they never get a foot up to cause you any damn problems.

Except for now there was the little problem that whether he like it or not, Merle had somehow found himself surrounded by more people in his life than he ever wanted to be around. He'd crashed down into this worthless little shit town with Daryl and his life had gotten turned all the fucking way upside down. And he wasn't even sure what the hell was going on, or what the hell to do about it.

But he knew that Daryl swore by this talking shit, and if that's what the hell he needed to do to figure it out…then he'd give it one damn try, but just one.

Merle snubbed his cigarette out and carried the butt over to the bucket where Daryl flicked his, dropping it in so Carol wouldn't lay a golden egg over the fact that he'd flicked a butt in her yard. He grabbed the door to the house and let himself inside, immediately wrapped in the warmth of the house and the sound of the bubbly voices.

Daryl was leaning against the bar on the far side of the kitchen, out of the view of the window, while Axel, Andrea, and Carol were involved in, apparently, decorating cookies that made the whole house smell sweet and warm.

Merle leaned down to pet the dog that was trying to scramble up his legs, though the fact that he was gaining weight made it harder for him than it had once been when he had been smaller and more a puppy.

"What the fuck is goin' on here?" Merle asked.

"Decorating Christmas cookies," Carol responded, not looking at him. "You want to decorate some?"

"Fuck no I don't wanna decorate no damn cookies," Merle spat.

If he'd been entirely honest, he really wouldn't have minded decorating the cookies. He couldn't remember ever having done anything like that in his life, though, and it didn't seem like a very manly thing to do, though that didn't seem to be deterring Axel from standing between the two women putting big globby buttons on some of the little people they were making.

"Ya busy, Derlina?" Merle asked, directing his attention to his brother who was standing with his arms crossed almost like he was sulking, but he was probably just caught up in some elaborate daydream or another.

Ever since Daryl had been a fucking little kid he could caught up in some shit in his head like no one would believe. It had been easy to scare the shit out of the fucker if you could catch him really caught up. He'd get this damn glazed over look, his mouth would fall open slightly, and it would look like the next damn thing he'd be doing was drooling. That's how the hell you knew that whatever was going on in that head of his had him all wrapped up…and then you could startle the hell out of him if you wanted to because he wouldn't have had a damn clue it was about to happen if a bear was about to eat him.

Daryl wasn't in that kind of state right now, though, but Merle suspected it wasn't too far off. Daryl's head snapped up at his question.

"Dunno," Daryl responded. "Am I busy?" He asked the cookie experts of the kitchen.

Carol turned to face Daryl, sucking icing off her thumb. She shrugged a little.

"Not if you don't want to be," she said.

Daryl looked at Merle then and nodded.

"What'cha need?" Daryl asked.

"Need'ja ta run me by place," Merle responded, glancing at those preoccupied by the cookies and hoping they weren't trying to dissect every damn work that came out of his mouth. "Need ya opinion on somethin'…" Merle said, not wanting to admit to his brother in the company of others that he was going to give this talking shit a try to see if might help him out with all the shit going on in his life that even he couldn't begin to understand.

Daryl nodded slightly and stood up from his leaning position, feeling his pockets and rattling them around in search of his keys.

"That OK?" Daryl asked, walking behind Carol and putting a hand on her shoulder. She turned, smiling and leaned up to kiss him quickly. Merle didn't miss that Daryl blushed a little over the fact he was watching them. The damn boy always got embarrassed about that shit, and Merle figured it was his fault for having given him hell so damn much about when he was going to man up and start getting him a little sugar from a pretty damn girl once and for all.

"Fine, baby," Carol responded when the peck was through.

"Axel…ya stay here with 'em? Just in case?" Daryl asked.

Axel nodded, grunting a reply and turned back to the work that the women had him doing…work he seemed to be taking very seriously.

Merle didn't say anything else to anyone. He turned to head out the house, his brother on his heels, and walked to Daryl's truck for him to drive him across town.

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They hadn't spoken on the way over. Merle wasn't sure how the hell to get around to or get out what the hell he wanted to talk about and it couldn't have been more obvious that something was gnawing on Daryl's ass if he'd been able to see some kind of damn wild animal hanging off of him with a mouthful of flesh.

When they got into the apartment, Merle unlocked the door and let Daryl pass through first, switching on the light as he did so.

"What'cha gotta show me?" Daryl asked.

"Ain't got a damn thing ta show ya," Merle responded. He pointed toward the table that he hardly ever used. "Sit the fuck down. Here ta give this talkin' shit'cha always doin' a go."

Daryl rolled his eyes at him.

"I'm serious, Daryl," Merle said. "Sit'cha ass down."

Daryl grumbled something and went to sit at the table, leaning back against the wall. Merle walked to the fridge and opened it, holding out a beer to his brother. Daryl shook his head but Merle didn't pay him any mind. He took out another beer for himself and took both the beverages to the table, sitting down across from Daryl. He opened them and sat one in front of his brother.

"Gotta drive," Daryl protested, his voice low. Merle was positive now that his brother was in some kind of funk, but he didn't have a clue what the hell it could be about since the little bastard just came back the day before from his damn honeymoon or whatever.

"It's a fuckin' beer," Merle responded. "Besides…ya lil' missy'll come an' get'cha if ya decide ta get'cha ass plowed, an' ya know it."

Daryl sighed and took the beer, sucking down half of it in one swallow. Merle decided it was pretty likely that the cookie crew would come to haul his brother home.

"What's eatin' ya panties, Daryl?" Merle asked. "Ya ass just got home from ya lil' vacation…"

"Like ya give a shit," Daryl responded, somewhat sourly.

Merle took a swig of his own beer, resting his elbows on the table. He tried to be as serious as he possibly could…as serious as he'd ever been, assuming it might help to aid things along.

"I do give a shit, Daryl," Merle said. "What the fuck is eatin' ya, boy?"

Daryl bit at his thumb before taking another swig of beer and Merle scooted around in his chair, reaching the fridge and pulling the door open to pluck another two beers out, glad he'd thought to stock up.

Daryl didn't say anything for a moment. He was picking at the label on the bottle with his pinkie nail and looking at Merle like he was expecting him to reach out and slap him or some shit.

"Fuckin' talk, Daryl!" Merle said. "Somethin' happen on ya fuckin' trip? I'm tryin' ta have one a' them damn heart ta hearts or whatever the fuck it is!"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him.

"Maybe I don't feel like ya bustin' my balls an' callin' me a pussy an' shit," Daryl said. "Maybe I don't feel like talkin' ta ya tonight."

Merle sighed and pressed a finger to his temple where he'd had a nagging headache pretty much since the time he'd woken up.

"I asked ya here so I could be the fuckin' pussy," Merle growled. "Reckon I ain't gon' bust ya balls if'n ya don't bust mine."

Daryl looked at him like he was confused.

"Don't know what the fuck I'm doin' here, Daryl," Merle said. "Why don't'cha quit bein' a lil' bitch about it an' tell me what the fuck is chewin' on ya? Might make it easier for me ta say what the fuck I got on my mind."

Daryl shifted in his chair, eyeing Merle in an odd sort of way and chewing on his bottom lip.

"While we was in the mountains," Daryl started, "Carol fell…busted her ass, right in the damn middle a' the road."

Merle shrugged a little, not fully understanding.

"So ya got'cha panties twisted 'cause Carol busted her ass?" Merle asked.

Daryl shook his head a little, finishing the beer and taking a second one before responding.

"I'm makin' her go an' see the doctor," Daryl said. "Got an appointment tomorrow."

Merle shrugged again.

"Merle…coulda killed the fuckin' kid!" Daryl spat. "Just like that…kid might not be alright. Got me ta thinkin'."

Merle wasn't sure but he felt like he was supposed to say something. Wasn't that part of talking? He was supposed to say things back to Daryl and solve Daryl's problem? Except right now he didn't have a clue what the hell to say.

"She looked just as damn fat tonight as she did when y'all left on ya trip," Merle said. "Don't reckon the kid's gone nowhere."

Daryl shook his head, scoffing a little.

"Got me ta thinkin' that maybe I ain't fit ta do this," Daryl said. "Scares the shit outta me that they gon' say the kid ain't OK…that I can't even take care a' Carol…can't take care a' the kid neither. Makin' me think I was fuckin' foolin' myself thinkin' this shit was gonna work out like it outta. Been fightin' the damn feelin' all day that I'd do better ta just turn tail an' run…get the hell out 'fore Carol realizes that I can't take care a' her ass neither."

And slowly it all started to sink into Merle. Merle sighed and shook his head, sucking down a good bit of his beer and hoping that it made him feel more comfortable with all the shit he was thinking.

"Ain't gon' let'cha do that, lil' brothah," Merle responded, shaking his head. He chuckled a little to himself. "Reckon it's prob'ly my damn fault much as anyone else's that'cha think ya should run like that…that'cha ain't never learned ta keep ya fuckin' feet flat on the ground for shit…but I ain't lettin' ya run from this shit."

Daryl looked at him, his face some kind of cross between the face of someone who has been seriously betrayed and the face of someone who wanted to rearrange Merle's teeth. Merle sucked his teeth.

"I'm proud of ya, Daryl," Merle said. "I said it before an' I meant it. Ya found ya a lil' woman that'cha wanted ta make ya damn wife…an' ya did. Put'cha a kid in her belly, even. Got'cha fuckin' act together, Daryl…weren't actin' like no fuckin' Dixon."

Daryl chuckled but it wasn't a sincere chuckle.

"Figured ya would say that ain't bein' a man," Daryl said.

Merle nodded his head slightly.

"Used ta think it weren't bein' no man," Merle said. "But I seen ya, Daryl. Hell…reckon ya bein' more a' fuckin' man than half the men I know…" Merle let his voice trail off with his thoughts before adding gruffly, "more a man than I been."

Daryl didn't respond, but Merle saw something in his brother's face change.

"Hell, Daryl," Merle said, "Carol was bakin' cookies an' shit. Don't look like no woman that just got done killin' her kid nor nothin' ta me."

"Wouldn't be that she killed it," Daryl said defensively. He picked at the table. "Damn it, Merle…she fell one time an' lost a kid."

Merle sat back in his chair, sucking down the rest of his beer to give him time to process the entire thing. Even if he'd been in the frame of mind to want to give his brother hell, this wouldn't be something he'd give him hell about. It was obvious the boy was dealing with a whole mess of things. He wasn't even going to ask for more details. He didn't need to know them. He was smart enough to figure it probably had something to do with that asshole Ed.

"Ya kid's gone be fine," Merle said, not knowing if there was an ounce of truth behind his words, but hoping for once he was telling the truth. "An' if it ain't…hell, Daryl…reckon ya could have another…but runnin' 'cause ya scared ain't the damn answer. An' I know I told ya…" Merle broke off, drinking the top out the second beer he got for himself and coming to terms with how much he'd failed his brother in his life. How much he was really starting to realize he'd fucked up in his own head about how shit worked. "I know that I told ya ta run from shit ya whole damn life…but I was wrong."

Merle didn't even pretend not to notice Daryl looking at him. He chuckled to himself a little. He'd probably never said those words before, even though he'd thought them.

Merle shook his head.

"Ya love that woman, Daryl. Don't'cha let whatever the fuck I ever told ya…or anyone else for that matter…fuck that shit up. If somethin's wrong then I'm real damn sorry for it, but'cha deal with that shit with ya woman. That's how the fuck ya be a man," Merle said.

Daryl's eyes dropped and he drank back more of the beer. Merle swiveled around and fished more out of the fridge, putting them on the table between them.

"Don't wanna lose neither one of 'em," Daryl said after a minute.

Merle nodded at him again.

"Then hold the fuck on," Merle said with a sigh. "Don't fuck up what'cha got."

Silence fell over them both for a moment. Merle didn't want to talk to Daryl about his shit anymore. They were on different planes…in different worlds, and Merle knew that now.

"What'd ya wanna talk about?" Daryl asked finally, still looking somewhat deflated.

"Don't matter," Merle said.

"Ya wanted ta talk," Daryl said. "Reckon ya had somethin' ta say. What the hell is it?"

Merle chuckled a little.

"Ain't nothin' like ya shit, Daryl," Merle said. "Don't hardly matter."

"Fuck is it?" Daryl asked. "Spit that shit out!"

Merle drained the beer and took another. He leaned up, resting his elbow on the table.

"Ya ain't fucked with me 'bout my shit," Daryl said. "I ain't gon' fuck with you. Reckon whatever the hell's chewin' on ya is just as damn serious to you as what's chewin' on me is ta me."

Merle sighed. He'd never in his life had some kind of heart to heart with anyone. Now here he was, sitting across from his brother. He'd listened to Daryl talk about what the hell was on his mind, but it was a whole different ballgame when he was the one trying to screw up the courage to talk about…what? What was he even trying to talk about? His fucking feelings?

Merle cleared his throat. It was now or never and he wouldn't admit it, but he was terrified to even let any of the things he was thinking escape from his mouth.

"While ya was gone I slept with Andrea…" Merle said.

Daryl looked at him, wrinkling his brow.

"So?" He asked.

Merle chuckled a little in response.

"Ya fucked Andrea a couple times that I know of," Daryl said.

Merle shook his head.

"Weren't the same," Merle said.

Daryl cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Ya know I don't particularly wanna talk about'cha bangin' Andrea, right?" Daryl said.

Merle sat back.

"Fuck ya, Derlina. Think I don't know what'cha was doin' on ya damn honeymoon? Think I don't know how ya girl got ta lookin' like she been chowin' down on fuckin' canteloupes? I thought'cha was all about this fuckin' talkin' shit…but'cha don't wanna do it if it ain't ya shit we talkin' 'bout!" Merle responded.

Daryl frowned and then sighed.

"Fuck it…" Daryl said. "OK, so ya fucked her an' it was different. What the hell else ya gotta say?"

Merle sucked his teeth, not sure how to go on from there or even if he still wanted to go on.

"Was the first damn time I ain't wanna leave in the mornin'," Merle said.

Daryl looked at him and Merle thought he knew what the look meant.

The truth was that it really had been the first time that Merle had ever woken up with a woman and didn't want to leave and it scared him shitless when he admitted it to himself. When Andrea had asked him…requested…that he paint some damn experience for her…when she'd asked him to be slow and gentle, he'd almost shit his pants.

Merle Dixon didn't do slow and gentle. It wasn't something he'd ever done, really. He wasn't into that shit. He wanted to fuck and that was it. He'd compromise on positions if you liked one thing more than something else…hell he could care less how you wanted to be fucked…as long as you understood that's all the hell there was to it.

But as soon as he'd started the whole thing with Andrea it had been different and he couldn't even say why. Andrea was different.

And what scared him the most when it was all said and done was that he had enjoyed it. Better than any of the times they'd fucked and it had damn near been wrestling match with a grizzly bear, he'd enjoyed it. He'd taken his time like he'd never done before. He'd traced nearly every damn inch of her body with his mouth, and he'd like the taste it had left on his tongue.

But when the morning had come, he hadn't known what the hell to do about it. He'd woken up and watched her, dressing quietly, her hair a mess and she'd looked over and smiled at him…told him she'd make breakfast. And he'd pretended it had been a fuck, like every other fuck. He'd been too damn chicken shit to say it had been different for him, and she hadn't said anything.

"Ya love her," Daryl said, his voice quiet. "Hell, Merle…we knowed ya loved her. Reckon you an' Andrea was the only two didn't know it."

As a defense mechanism, Merle forced himself to chuckle. He could feel his heart pounding though, just at the thought. It had always terrified him to think of falling in love. That meant falling out of control, and so far the only damn thing he'd ever had any control over was the fact that he didn't love the women he fucked.

Merle shook his head.

"Don't'cha fuckin' shake ya head at me," Daryl said. "Ya tell me not ta listen ta all the shit'cha told me my whole damn life. Now I'm gonna tell ya ta stop listenin' ta ya own damn self. Ya fuckin' love Andrea. Go ahead an' face the fuckin' facts. Ya ain't wanna leave in the mornin' 'cause ya love her an' ya wanna wake up beside her ass another damn mornin'…hell, I know what the hell that feels like. An' I don't know if that shit changes or not, but I can tell ya that if it don't change then ya gonna wake up ever single fuckin' mornin' feelin' like it ain't enough. Ya gonna wake up feelin' fuckin' terrified that'cha ain't never gonna get ta do that shit again…it's the worst damn feelin' ever…an' it's the best damn feelin'."

Merle swallowed, looking at his brother. He didn't know what to say and he didn't know what to do. He hated to admit that he was already terrified. He was terrified to think that he might have done it. He might have gone against his better judgment and let himself fall…but he didn't think he could say it.

"Tell her, Merle," Daryl said. Daryl shook his head at him slightly and worked on another beer that Merle hadn't noticed he'd moved to. "If ya don't tell her…she ain't gon' wait forever. If ya do tell her…hell…ya might just find yaself a woman ya wanna claim as ya own. Who the fuck knows? I told ya before, though, ya gotta piss or get off the damn pot 'cause right now ya just jerkin' her around."

Merle frowned.

He felt guilty because he knew that his brother was right. He was jerking her around, but he didn't want to do that anymore. He couldn't help but feel, though, like he'd be a first class royal fuck up if he tried this shit. He didn't think he could even do half as good as Daryl did at the whole relationship thing. Daryl had always been the sweet one.

Merle cleared his throat, searching for words.

"An' if I fuck it up?" Merle asked, raising his eyebrows at his brother, thankful that Daryl wasn't giving him the hell that he'd given Daryl in his life.

Daryl shrugged.

"Then ya fuck it up," Daryl said. "Same as the rest of us, I reckon. I gotta tell ya like ya told me. Stop runnin'. Maybe ya won't fuck it up… ya know? Maybe Andrea won't let'cha fuck it up if ya give her the chance."

Merle nodded. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. He knew, though, that he had reached a crossroads in his life that he'd never been to before and he was going to have to make a decision. He could go in one direction and continue being the same sorry asshole he'd always been. He could just keep going like he'd always done and never look back. If he took that direction, though, he was going to lose Andrea forever. She was going to go off, probably with that fucker Axel, and she was going to do whatever the hell it was she needed to do with her life. If he took the other direction, though, he was going to have to be a different man entirely. He was going to have to let go of everything he'd held onto for so damn long. If he did take that direction, though, and if somehow he got it right…he had a chance to stop being jealous over everything that Daryl had…he had a chance to have his own life…It would be a life he'd never imagined having, though, and one that he didn't know if he could handle.

Daryl sat in silence, finishing the beer in his hand. He plucked another off the table and Merle got up, getting a couple more out of the fridge, sitting them in the middle of the table, and picking up the phone.

"I'll call ya wife," Merle said. "We'll work on these 'til she gets here."

Daryl nodded at him. Merle swallowed again, listening to the distant buzz of the dial tone coming from the receiver in his hand.

"Don't say no shit 'bout this, lil' brothah…" Merle said.

Daryl shook his head slightly.

"'Bout what?" Daryl asked.

Merle nodded at Daryl and dialed the now familiar numbers to interrupt the bakers and let them know that someone needed to swing by and make sure that Daryl made it home alright.


	124. Chapter 124

**AN: Fluff alert. It's one of those days and I needed just fluffiness, though, so here it is. Fluff/filler. Feel free to skip if you're not in the mood. LOL **

**I'll also plug here that if you don't know about it, I did start posting the chapters for "Northern Stars" which is the sequel to "Phantom Hearts". I'm trying to write it so that it "can" stand alone for those who haven't read the first story, but I'm sure that it would be "better" if you read it. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol didn't ask any questions when Merle had called and asked her to come and pick Daryl up. She didn't mind that he'd had some drinks with Merle. If anything she hoped it might loosen him up. He'd been wound incredibly tight since the last day they were on their honeymoon and if a few beers helped that then she'd have picked him up from anywhere.

She was even more relieved when they got there, though, and discovered that despite the fact he'd spent a while with Merle, he wasn't acting like they'd had a bad time. He actually did seem at least a little calmer, though he'd obviously taken full advantage of the time he spent with his brother and sucked down as many beers as possible in the time frame.

By the time they got him out of the car at the house he'd started weaving a lot more than he normally did and Carol had gone ahead inside and gotten Lincoln out of the way so that Andrea and Axel didn't have to worry about the dog tripping Daryl as they walked on either side of him to keep him from straying too far in one direction or another.

It hadn't taken too much for Carol to convince her husband to go to bed early and she'd left the other two to finish up their cookie fun while she made sure that Daryl was sleeping. She was tired herself, so she wasn't upset about the early bedtime.

Carol got into bed after Daryl was already settled down. Before crawling under the covers she took off everything but her socks. Everything else bunched up or pulled or wrapped to tight here or there and tortured her all night long if she left it on. She really didn't care for the socks either, but her feet were always cold…so the socks had become a necessary evil.

Carol worked her way under the cover and hugged closer to her edge of the bed given the fact that Daryl had more or less spread out and overtaken his part of the bed and much of hers. She assumed he was asleep, or passed out if he'd had even more than she suspected to drink, and she didn't want to bother him.

As soon as she settled in, though, Carol knew she'd been wrong and Daryl wasn't passed out. An arm came around her and she felt him tugging her, bringing himself closer to her to wrap nearly around her. He moved and his hot breath hit her ear, making her shiver just as he nipped her earlobe between his teeth, growling softly at her.

Carol giggled. She wondered if the alcohol or whatever had gone on over there, was enough to make Daryl want to give up his silly abstinence declaration for the night. She was trying not to push him, but she just couldn't get enough of him these days and not having sex with him since she'd fallen was getting kind of old.

Carol rolled a little and Daryl kissed the side of her face before bringing his lips to hers, his tongue darting into her mouth. His mouth tasted a little like stale cigarettes and sour beer, but she felt like she could power through that without a problem if it meant that he was thinking of other things too.

Carol moaned into his mouth on purpose, hoping to let him know what was on her mind. Except that her plan backfired and Daryl sat up on his elbow, looking at her with slightly glazed eyes that she could barely see in the dark room.

"Don't be gettin' ideas," Daryl said, his voice gruff.

Carol huffed at him.

"You're the one kissing me and sucking on my ear," Carol responded. She rolled away. "If you don't have any intention of going through with what you start then roll right back on over there and pass out."

Daryl chuckled a little and rubbed her cheek.

"Don't be like that," he said. "Told ya I ain't wantin' ta do that 'til ya go ta the doc tomorrow an' we know for sure that everythin's OK."

"Mmm hmmm…" Carol moaned.

Daryl sighed and flopped over, shaking the entire bed.

"Now ya gonna be sore about it?" Daryl asked.

"I'm just saying that I already know that everything's fine," Carol responded. "Daryl…I would have known by now if something was wrong. Lil' Bit's acting just like she has been acting. She may even be a little more active than she has been. Nothing's wrong, and having sex with me isn't going to bother her one tiny bit."

"Tomorrow," Daryl responded. "After Andrea brings ya up ta the Y ta meet me an' we do our class…if everythin's just fine then ya get whatever the hell makes ya happy, alright?"

Carol sighed.

"Promise?" She asked.

"Promise…but'cha gotta be nice ta me an' let me hold ya tonight," Daryl said.

Carol sighed again, making sure that it was loud enough for him to really get the message. She rearranged her pillow.

"Fine, but as long as you're awake, sleeping beauty, go and brush your teeth," Carol responded.

She yelped a little when Daryl surprised her by pinching her side before he chuckled and got up, making his way to brush his teeth.

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Carol got out of the car and thanked Andrea for being a trooper and hanging with her through the doctor's appointment, the quick dinner that they'd shared, and now for dropping her off at the Y. Andrea, of course, dismissed her thanks quickly and waited for her to slam the car door.

Daryl was sitting in his truck when they pulled up, but he started getting out as Carol was getting out of the car and by the time she slammed Andrea's car door so that her friend could pull off, Daryl was standing and looking at her over the bed of the truck.

"Did you bring my pillow?" Carol asked, starting toward him.

Daryl reached around and got it out of the truck, holding it up and slamming the truck door a minute later. Carol heard the rattle of the keys as he dropped them into his coat pocket.

"Ya told me three times this mornin' ta bring it an' ya left a note in my truck," Daryl said. "How the hell'd ya think I was gonna forget?"

Carol smiled and came toward him, his arm hooking around her shoulder and bringing her against him. She smiled up at him and he grinned, leaning in to kiss her before pulling away and offering her the pillow.

"Lil' Bit?" He asked.

"Fine, just fine," Carol said.

She hadn't been surprised to find out that everything was fine. She knew that everything was fine. It was really Daryl who was concerned and she considered the entire trip today to be just something to soothe his nerves.

"I did get a flu shot," Carol offered, walking just in front of Daryl toward the almost haunted looking building. Since they were the only people in the almost empty parking lot, she could reason that everyone else was inside. "And in two weeks we have an appointment and you get to see Lil' Bit again on the screen…if you're going with me."

"'Course I'll go," Daryl said, reaching the door just before her and holding it open for her to pass inside. "Ya ain't seen her today did'ja?" He asked, his voice sounding concerned.

Carol had told him that it would probably be a pretty basic checkup since she'd requested just to make sure everything was fine, and she was right. She knew, though, that Daryl was concerned that he'd missed something by choosing to stay at work rather than go to the late appointment.

"No, I didn't see her," Carol said. "I wanted to wait until you were there. I did get to listen to her heartbeat, though."

"Yeah?" Daryl said, almost pushing her down the halls, following the paper signs. "What'd it sound like?"

Carol snickered and rubbed her belly, feeling Daryl's hand on her shoulder as he directed her along the hallway as though she were incapable of reading the signs.

"Like it always sounds," she said. "Strong and healthy. She kicked the microphone or whatever you call that thing."

Daryl chuckled.

"Was a damn invasion a' her privacy," Daryl responded, lowering his voice as the lit room came into sight where beyond they would meet up with their class for the second time.

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Carol leaned back against Daryl, not offering to get off of him now that the two videos they'd watched were over. At least if she was going to be subjected to lying here on a mat on the floor and watching videos that had freaked her out a little more than she wanted to talk about the moment, he could be a personal recliner for her.

He wasn't protesting, though, and she imagined if she could see his face at the moment he was probably caught somewhere between fascination with the videos and some kind of smirk because it was probably all very exciting for him.

After all, he wasn't the one that was actually having the baby.

It wasn't that Carol hadn't known what to expect. She'd known for a long time where babies came from and how they got here, this wasn't some kind of surprise for her, and therefore she wasn't sure exactly why the two childbirth videos they'd watched had her stomach in knots that she couldn't blame on the baby.

There was, perhaps, a big difference between knowing the basics and suddenly wondering if you were even able to do something.

She kept quiet, though, and listened as they went around discussing the video. Everyone else in the room was a veteran at this. She was the only mother in the stupid childbirth class who hadn't been through childbirth before.

And on the one hand that gave her hope because they'd all done it and they were back to the mat again…but on the other it made her feel a little isolated at the moment. She wasn't going to talk about her feelings on the video because at the moment she wasn't thinking about the "beauty" of what they'd just seen. So she opted for keeping quiet.

And then when they moved on, she went through the motions, pleased at least that the breathing exercises they did helped to relieve a good deal of the knots that were tying her up inside.

Finally Bobbie went around and asked if they had any questions or anything that anyone wanted to discuss with the end of the class nearing. Most of the people, of course, didn't have too much to ask. They were veterans at this sort of thing…maybe even old hats…Carol wasn't sure because she hadn't been paying enough attention the first night when they'd all introduced themselves.

Now, though, Daryl was sitting beside her, his hand on her thigh, and he raised his other hand.

Carol had no idea what he was going to ask, but she was simultaneously proud and terrified. On the one hand, it was a big step for Daryl to raise his hand in the room full of people with a question. On the other hand, she was a little afraid of what the question might be. She could only say a silent prayer that no one would embarrass him if it was terrible.

"What is it, Daryl?" Bobbie asked.

Carol looked at Daryl and smiled. He was already looking a little redder than usual, and she knew he hated having everyone look at him the way they were. At least the people in the class were a little like what she imagined an AA meeting would be like and they offered broad smiles of encouragement long before they heard what you had to say.

"Just wonderin'…" Daryl started. "Well…we went on a trip an' while we was out there, Carol fell…" Daryl glanced at Carol and she nodded at him, hoping to encourage him to ask whatever it was he wanted to ask and still hoping that no one would laugh at him.

"Are you alright?" Bobbie interrupted.

Carol smiled and nodded at the woman whose face was now concerned.

"Went to the doctor today," Carol offered. "Everything's just fine. It really wasn't a big deal."

"But'cha could get hurt from fallin', right?" Daryl asked suddenly.

He wanted to be verified for his concern. Carol realized it suddenly and she didn't mind it one bit. She assumed that meant that he felt, at least to some degree, safe and validated in this little group even if she was still trying to find her niche here.

Bobbie nodded her head.

"If Carol were to fall a certain way…" Bobbie said with some hesitation, "or if she were to suffer a certain amount of trauma from the fall there could be problems, but if the doctor said that everything was fine, then I wouldn't worry."

Bobbie offered one of her smiles and Carol thought that she was pretty good at this kind of thing. She imagined the woman was probably a teacher or something, and if she hadn't been, she'd missed her calling because she had the face of someone who was trying to offer a steady stream of encouragement.

"OK," Daryl said. "Then is they anythin' else that might shake the baby up too much…like anythin' we might oughta not be doin'…?"

Carol was mortified and she felt her face growing warm. She knew already where this was going. Bobbie looked confused at first and then realization started to settle over her face. She offered the warm smile again.

"Do you mean everyday activities?" She asked. "Or were you thinking along the lines of sky diving?"

Daryl chuckled a little, obviously slightly embarrassed by bringing this up in the class, but not very embarrassed, which was a little surprising.

"Well…maybe not _every_ day, but I weren't thinkin' no extreme sports…" Daryl said.

Bobbie smiled broadly and openly winked at Daryl. The action made Carol smile and chuckle a little despite her moment of discomfort earlier.

"Are you asking about sexual intercourse?" She asked.

Daryl shrugged and bit at his thumb. Carol hoped the woman was capable of figuring out that was the best she was getting out of him for such a direct question. Apparently Bobbie figured it out, though, because she smiled and nodded.

"All of that is fine," Bobbie said. "Unless your doctor says otherwise for some reason, of course. As long as everyone is in agreement, there's no reason that you can't have a healthy and happy sexual relationship right up until the baby's born."

"You might have to get creative, though," Karen, one of the other women in the group offered.

A chuckle rolled through nearly everyone there and Carol felt her embarrassment melting away. Granted sex was something she wasn't entirely comfortable talking about outside of her tight group of people, but it was pretty evident how each and every one of the couples had come to be in the class, so she assumed there was no need hiding that all of them had at least had sex before…and very likely were continuing to do so if they liked their partner.

"I actually have a book on that," Bobbie offered, nodding her head a little. "I've got my own kids at home and I can promise you that where there's a will, there's a way," she said with a chuckle. "I'll bring you the book next week, though."

Daryl smiled and nodded, squeezing Carol's thigh. She reached over and put her hand over his, squeezing his hand in response.

She was oddly proud of Daryl, though she couldn't have readily explained why in any certain terms. It just seemed like a big deal to her, though, that he was comfortable enough in the class to ask such things, and she was grateful that no one had done anything to embarrass him in any way. In fact, he looked almost like he was beaming a little at knowing for sure that things were safe for them to do now.

And after all, Carol didn't think that was a bad thing at all. It meant that she could finally get him to stop fighting her over what she wanted when they got home.


	125. Chapter 125

**AN: Here you go! A little chapter for you. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Might have ta call in back up…" Daryl protested playfully as Carol nipped at the flesh on his jaw. He wasn't entirely sure she wasn't trying to eat him and he was considering offering to go and get her snack or something to distract her for a few minutes.

He wasn't opposed to sex…not in the slightest, but she'd all but drug him into the bedroom the moment they got home from their class, and now they were two rounds into his foolish promise that she could have whatever she wanted and she was showing no signs of having this itch scratched at all.

Daryl was lying on his back, panting, and Carol was sitting across him, licking and biting his face, neck, shoulders, nipples…anywhere her mouth fell.

Carol chuckled at his protests.

"No," she said, holding his wrists above his head with her hands. Her lips red and swollen from the biting and sucking that had already taken place. "No one else…"

She was panting too, but the woman was bloodthirsty. There probably wasn't a better word for it than that. She wanted something from him and he was starting to doubt he was the man that was going to be able to give it to her.

"Gotta have a break," he said.

Carol smiled at him before bringing her mouth down to his, her tongue searching every inch of his mouth out hungrily. Daryl moaned into her mouth. He was tired…he was pretty sure he was going to be dehydrated by the end of the night…but damn did he love this woman, even if she was bloodthirsty and a little scary at times.

The sheets that had formed a somewhat tangled mess around Daryl were soaked. He could pay more attention to it now that his mind was pretty clear, but Carol wasn't paying attention to anything besides what she was apparently hoping to milk out of him.

Daryl chuckled at her when he could finally get his breath again.

"Tryin' ta kill me, woman!" He declared.

"Mmm mmm," Carol moaned. She was straddling him, sitting on her knees and he dipped his hand down, rubbing at the magic spot. She was so sensitive at the moment that she moaned again, grinding herself into his fingers and eliciting another chuckle from him.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Starving," she panted, grinding into him more. He knew, and she knew, that neither of them were referring to food at the moment.

"Roll ya ass over," he said, putting his hands on her hips to push her a little and urge her toward moving flat to the mattress. She obeyed and Daryl shifted himself up so that he could bring his mouth to suckle at the button, causing her to buck and her hands to go to his hair.

Daryl lapped, sucked, and nipped at her, stroking her with his fingers while she writhed against him, whining almost pathetically. She cried out when she came again and Daryl could feel himself getting hard, thinking to himself that his little friend was a real trooper…even though he thought he wasn't going to make it, it seemed he was determined to rise to the occasion.

Daryl hovered over Carol and brought his lips to hers. She lifted her head toward him, giving herself over to the kiss. He dipped his head paying attention to her nipples and noticing that though she was ready and willing, the extra size of their daughter made their coming together a little more awkward than it once had been.

Still, they were doing well at working around it and adjusting to the change in angle that it required if he didn't want to feel like he was smashing the little one.

"Ya ready?" Daryl asked, coming up for a moment from Carol's nipples. She moaned and bucked at him and he took that as his response, pushing into her in one thrust and smiling at the noise of appreciation she made as her fingers curled around his arms.

This time Daryl took his time. There wasn't any need to rush as far as he could tell. The feeling of Carol pulsing around him was amazing, and he already knew that she was enjoying all of it just from the tensing and releasing of her muscles…not even to mention the noises she was offering him.

So Daryl let himself control the situation based entirely on what he wanted to get from the coupling and when he finally reached his peak, exhausted beyond belief, he stayed locked with Carol until he couldn't any longer and then kissed her again.

"I'm spent," he panted, shaking his head at her when her eyes opened and focused on him. She was out of breath, panting, her eyes almost glazed and her fingers tight around his upper arms. She nodded slightly, visibly swallowing.

Daryl kissed her again before lying beside her and trying to find his breath.

"Hold ya over?" He asked.

Carol rolled onto her side, facing him, and reached out, tracing her fingertip around his face. When it reached his lips, he kissed it. Carol smiled at him.

"For a little while," she said, her breathing still a little ragged.

Daryl chuckled.

"These sheets is damn near filthy," he said.

Carol laughed at him.

"It was good for me too," she said. "And I'll change the sheets."

"Hell," Daryl growled. "Didn't figure there was no question if it was good or not. They's Christmas cookies in the kitchen. If this shit weren't good then I reckon both of us mighta long been in there bitin' the heads off them fuckin' elves y'all made."

Carol looked at him a minute.

"I forgot about the cookies," she said.

Daryl laughed. He started to roll over and figure out where his clothes had ended up in the frenzy that had brought them to the bedroom in the first place.

"Want milk?" He asked.

Carol giggled.

"What are cookies without milk?" She responded.

Daryl slipped into his boxers in case Andrea had slipped into the house while they were in the bedroom doing unmentionable things.

"I'll be back," he said, heading toward the kitchen.

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Andrea was exhausted when she came out of the Korean restaurant and locked the door behind her. She'd agreed to stay late and lock up since it was, after all, Christmas Eve and the Rhee family…well…they had a family. They had things to get home to and things to do for the holiday. What did Andrea really have?

So she'd figured she might as well stay late and let them duck out. She'd offered to do the cleaning and let everyone else go early too, even taking out the garbage and such so that Michael, the busboy, could leave early.

Andrea dropped the heavy keychain in her purse and groaned a little at the smell wafting around her from the fried food. She hated that smell almost enough to make her consider never eating another fried thing in her life. Working here and at the bar kept her going and kept her pushing Carol with their hair classes. She had to get the fuck out of this waitressing life at some point. She hated to think she'd be an old woman and still pushing shots and smelly foreign food at the same assholes she'd disliked for most of her life.

Andrea turned around and looked out at the empty parking lot for the first time that night. She knew she'd be the only car there. Everyone was probably already downtown for the Christmas Eve celebration. The whole damn place would be abandoned if it wasn't for Main Street..and then later the park with all the lights and decorations that all the old men in town had put the week into hanging.

For a spit second, Andrea's heart jumped at the sight of someone sitting on the hood of her car. Her brain's first response was to spit at her that it was Ed. He'd shown back up just at the very damn moment that she was all the fuck alone…and no one could hear her scream…and her gun was locked in the glove compartment of her car.

As soon as the initial shock was over, though, Andrea realized that it wasn't Ed resting on her car. It was Merle. She hadn't expected at all to see him there.

As she walked toward him, Merle rubbed his hands together and smiled at her in the dim light.

"'Bout damn time, sugah!" Merle called. "Was freezin' my nuts off waitin' on ya…an' what the hell ya thinkin' lettin' ever damn body else go home? Ya fuckin' alone out here, 'cept for me."

Andrea smiled in spite of herself.

The night Merle had come to watch the movie with her…the night of what had been the most mind-blowing sex of her life simply because it had been compiled of all the feelings that she'd never imagined that she would ever have…had been really one of the last times that she'd talked much to Merle. The next morning he'd been a little distant, and she'd taken that as evidence that he hadn't really meant anything that happened that night. He had wanted to have sex with her…that's what he'd gotten…and in the end, he was still the same old Merle.

"What are you doing here?" Andrea asked.

Merle stood up and turned facing her.

"Good ta see ya too, sugah," Merle said.

Andrea pasted on her best frown.

"Don't play with me, Merle. I'm not in the mood. What's going on?" She asked.

Merle chuckled.

"I told ya! I'm fuckin' freezin' an' keepin' watch over ya dumb ass. I been out here damn near an hour and a half waitin' on ya," Merle said.

Andrea's brows creased.

"Why?" She asked. "I'm fine. I can take care of myself, you know…been doing it for a while now."

Merle stepped forward and surprised Andrea by catching her by the back of the head and bringing her face toward him. He kissed her, his tongue darting out to lick at her lips and she opened her mouth, sinking into the kiss.

"Come ta take ya downtown," Merle growled when the kiss broke apart, his breath fogging in the cold air and his hands going around Andrea's waist.

Andrea sighed.

"I'm not going to the stupid parade," Andrea said. She'd actually told everyone she'd meet them there, and she knew that she'd end up having to go or else they were liable to panic if she was absent for the whole night, but Merle didn't have to know that.

Merle scoffed and leaned his head, kissing Andrea's neck and making her shiver worse than the cold was already doing.

"It's Sweet Junction," Merle growled into her ear. "Everybody goes ta the parade."

Andrea chuckled, pushing away from him.

"You're a real home town boy now, huh?" She asked. She started around the car, unlocking the door and getting in before he could reply. She reached across the seats and flicked the lock up on the passenger side door and Merle opened it, getting into the car while she cranked it.

Merle chuckled and blew on his hands.

"Fine…ya don't wanna go ta the fuckin' parade, we ain't gotta go. Ain't pullin' on my dick none," Merle said.

"What are you really doing here?" Andrea asked. "I know you don't give a damn about taking me to the parade."

Merle cleared his throat loudly.

"Figured ya might wanna go," he said. "Daryl an' Carol went an' I told ya boyfriend I was pickin' ya up. Didn't wanna be a damn liar."

Andrea glanced over at him.

"An' I want'cha ta tell ya boyfriend that'cha spoken for," Merle said.

Andrea's eyebrows knit together again. She laughed a little before she could stop herself, suddenly realizing that Merle was serious right now. There wasn't a trace of his bullshit smile anywhere. She shook her head slightly at him.

"I'm spoken for?" She asked, trying to hold back her smile, her eyebrows raising on their own.

Merle nodded.

"What's that even supposed to mean, Merle?" Andrea asked, waving her hands in front of the vent to see if the car was producing any of the heat she'd requested from it and doubting it sincerely.

Merle reached out and caught one of her hands in his. He cleared his throat again, his eyes darting about in some effort to avoid hers.

"Means ya spoken for," Merle said. "An' I don't want'cha givin' Axel the wrong damn ideas. Time ta be upfront with him 'bout that shit."

The humor left Andrea now as she realized that Merle, as best he could, was trying to convey something to her. She didn't want to read too much between the lines, though…this was Merle, after all.

"Axel's my friend," Andrea started.

Merle nodded.

"An' he can be ya friend, darlin', I ain't sayin' he can't…but I ain't talkin' friends with benefits neither," Merle said.

Andrea chuckled and raised her eyebrows.

"You mean like you are?" She asked.

Merle narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"Ain't tryin' ta be ya friend, Andrea," Merle said.

Andrea swallowed. She felt her heart rate increase and she wondered for the moment if he could hear it.

"What are you trying to be?" She urged, hoping she wasn't getting her hopes up for nothing.

Merle leaned toward her and his hand caught her head again, tugging her into him for another kiss like they'd shared outside. Andrea felt her breathing increase to match her heart rate and she tried to tell her body to get ahold of itself. It was embarrassing that she was a grown, and pretty worldly woman, yet Merle seemed to make her body have a mind of its own.

When they pulled apart, Merle cleared his throat again and looked down. He shook his head.

"Not tryin' ta be ya friend," he repeated.

Andrea nodded her head slightly and this time she brought her lips back to his, nipping him slightly before he almost came into her seat, pressing against her with the kiss.

"It's too cold to do this here," Andrea said against his lips as the kiss broke apart.

"Don't wanna do it here, sugah," Merle responded, his voice low and gravelly.

"Did you still want to go to the parade?" Andrea asked.

Merle pushed forward, catching her lips again in a kiss. He grunted.

"What's say we late ta the parade? My place ain't too far from here…we could head on over there for a bit…gotcha somethin' for Christmas too." Merle said.

Andrea chuckled and pulled away from Merle, realizing that they were both breathing heavily…heavily enough to steam the windows in the old Pontiac.

"You got me a Christmas gift?" Andrea asked.

Merle nodded his head and smiled at her.

"What?" She asked. She hadn't gotten him anything. As far as she knew no one was exchanging gifts, though she suspected that Santa Michonne would be giving Daryl and Carol something for the baby, but that was different.

Merle shook his head and chuckled a little.

"Ya don't get it 'til tomorrow mornin'," Merle said. "Gotta wait 'til Santy Clause brings it to ya."

Andrea narrowed her eyes at him. He wrapped his hands around her, pulling her somewhat uncomfortably across the seat and kissed her again. She felt electricity shoot through her body and she knew she would lose this war. When they broke apart she licked her lips and swallowed.

"You're coming over in the morning?" Andrea asked, looking into Merle's eyes.

"Mmm…" Merle responded. "Was thinkin' we might go ta this here parade…go an' see them lights they got…s'posed ta be real pretty…thought'cha might be willin' ta pass the night with me."

Andrea moaned a little when Merle moved and nuzzled her ear, something he had only done that night they'd spent together while Daryl and Carol were gone. He licked her ear and she moaned again.

"We can do whateva ya want…" Merle growled into her ear. She shivered.

Andrea pulled away and swallowed, trying to get control of herself.

"I did tell everyone I'd be downtown," she said, suddenly regretting that decision.

Merle smiled and hummed a little.

"Then we'll go downtown," Merle said. "See the pretty people an' the pretty lights…duck out when we ready ta leave. We got all damn night."

Andrea smiled and nodded at him slightly, fastening her seatbelt. He did the same and reached over, resting an arm around her shoulder as she backed the car out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of town where everyone would be gathering for the festivities.

She didn't know for sure what the night had in store, but she had a feeling that she wouldn't be sorely disappointed by any of it.


	126. Chapter 126

**AN: Here you go, the first of the Christmas chapters…**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol glanced back toward Daryl who was a few feet away in line and waiting to get them some of the wax paper cones filled with pralines. She was standing near the sidewalk, scanning the crowd as everyone bustled about to get ready for the parade that would be passing through soon.

All of Sweet Junction was aglow…at least as far as Main Street went. All the businesses had long since turned off their lights and the Christmas lights and wreaths strung up on anything that would hold still lit up the place like a wonderland.

There would be a parade, the height of which would feature Santa riding through town, and then most of the town would retire or either head down to the park where the old men of the town had spent the entire week stringing up Christmas lights and other decorations. Carol was more excited about the light show than she was about anything else. There would be caroling too. She hadn't been in a long time, but she held the memories of how magical it once was dear in her mind and she hoped she wouldn't be disappointed tonight.

Still, she was looking for her friends. Somewhere in the crowd she was supposed to be finding Michonne and Tyreese who were there with the girls, and Andrea was supposed to be somewhere with Merle, though she hadn't seen evidence of any of them so far. In fact, the only person besides Daryl that she'd seen and known was Axel and that was only because he'd come at the same time they had and had gotten roped, somehow, into handing out candy canes for one of the businesses that bought treats for all the children.

Carol was growing a little concerned that she might not find anyone. It was like a veritable "Where's Waldo" out there and if she didn't find them before they started the parade she wasn't likely to find them until they got to the park.

She glanced back toward Daryl again and then returned to scanning the crowd, trying to focus on each and every face for a moment to see if she'd missed them, somehow in all the ruckus.

When her eyes fell on the face she wasn't expecting, though…the one she didn't want to see, she forgot that she was looking for anyone else.

He was almost directly across the street from her, caught up a little in the crowd, but clearly there and looking back at her. He was looking at her…there was no doubt about it. She couldn't see very clearly, but she thought he was smirking at her and her heart leapt up into her throat.

"Daryl…" she said, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.

Carol abandoned her search suddenly and made her way through the crowd toward Daryl, her heart pounding and her lungs tightening to the point she could barely breathe.

"Daryl!" She cried out, not really looking where she was going. She barreled into Daryl hard, only realizing it was him when he spoke.

"Damn girl!" Daryl said with a laugh. "Damn near knock my ass in the dirt. What's goin' on? Ya find Andrea yet?"

Carol stood in front of him, trying desperately to get control over her nerves, and shook her head.

"He's here…" she said, looking at Daryl.

Daryl wrinkled his brow at her and handed her one of the wax paper cones that he was holding.

"Who?" He asked.

Carol glanced around, suddenly feeling strangely paranoid, to the point that she couldn't control her own jumpiness.

"Ed," she said quietly, feeling like everyone around them was looking at her, even though she knew they weren't.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"Ed!" Carol said a little louder. "He's here…he's across the street…Daryl I don't think I want to stay…"

Daryl stepped forward, rushing almost to the spot where Carol had been standing earlier and shouldering an older gentleman out of the way with a quiet apology. Carol followed right behind him, bumping against him before she came to a full stop.

"I don't see nothin'…" Daryl said.

Carol let her eyes fall back over the crowd…right over where she knew that he had been. But he wasn't there now.

"He's gone," she said, feeling her throat tighten. "He's not there…he was right there, Daryl. He looked right at me. I swear…"

Carol was mad at herself suddenly. She'd spent all this damn time thinking that when Ed showed up she wouldn't be scared at all. It wouldn't even phase her. She'd practiced, even, speeches that she'd give him about how much she'd moved on and how she wasn't afraid of his ass any more than she was afraid of the big bad wolf.

But no matter what her brain said…no matter all the courage she'd been working up to having…her knees were shaky, her heart was pounding, and she was choking on the tears that she was determined not to let fall.

Daryl glanced at her and dropped an arm around her shoulder.

"S'OK…he's gone if he was there," Daryl said. "Fucker ain't gonna do shit out here no way. Whole damn town's here. He might be a dumb ass sorry fuck, but ain't no damn body that fuckin' dumb."

Carol's stomach twisted suddenly and she got colder than she'd been before.

"Daryl…we've got to find Andrea…we've got to find Andrea and Michonne…they don't know he's out here," Carol said. She felt a type of panic rising up in her chest that she wasn't used to and suddenly she felt almost like she was trapped or something…she needed to get loose from whatever it was and she needed to find her friends.

Her brain reminded her that the businesses had shut down around them. The whole town had shut down for the parade. And the Rhee family was here. She'd seen them two or three times…they were just down the street a tiny piece. That meant their restaurant was shut down, but Andrea wasn't here, or she hadn't seen her. Something had kept Andrea from getting here and it wasn't work because the Rhee family was here.

And Michonne was supposed to be coming with the girls. Tyreese was supposed to be coming with her, but if he didn't make it or he was late she'd have come on her own. She was out here somewhere with two little girls…and Ed was here.

"Daryl," Carol said, tugging at him. "We've got to find them!"

Daryl squeezed her tighter to him, chuckling softly.

"Calm down, Carol. Do some a' ya fancy breathin' or somethin'. I seen Michonne already. She spoke when I was in line gettin' pralines. She was lettin' the girls see Mrs. Clause over there," Daryl said.

Carol glanced in the direction of Daryl's gesture and could see Jo Greene in costume, handing out treats, but Michonne wasn't around.

"She's not over there," Carol said.

"No…'cause Santa done took Angie with him ta ride in the sleigh an' she was movin' on down toward where they was startin' the parade in case her lil' elf wussed out at the last damn minute. Tyreese is with her. Whether or not Ed's sorry ass is here, she's just damn fine," Daryl said.

"Andrea…" Carol said. "The Rhee family's here, Daryl. She's not at work. If she's alone…"

Daryl cut her off by almost squeezing the breath out of her with the arm he had hooked protectively around her.

"Merle was goin' ta get Andrea," Daryl said. "Said he wanted ta talk ta her. I reckon they just fine. Merle ain't gonna let fuckin' Ed Peletier put his damn hands on Andrea."

"You know how Merle is," Carol said. "What if he started something and she stormed off? She could be out here alone…"

"I got me a pretty good inklin' that Merle weren't aimin' ta have the kinda conversation with Andrea that she was liable ta up an' run from," Daryl said. He squeezed her again. "Promise ya…everythin's just fine. Whether or not Ed's ass is any damn where around here he ain't layin' a finger on no damn body. Stop worryin'."

Carol was finding it simultaneously hard to worry and hard to stop worrying. On the one hand she knew that she'd seen Ed. Daryl might think it was a hallucination or even something akin to believing that she saw Bigfoot, but she knew that she'd seen him. And she still didn't know where Andrea was…even if Michonne was indeed safe, off in the crowd somewhere with Tyreese. On the other hand, Daryl was calm and his arm was wrapped around her in such a way that it almost suggested to her body that there was nothing to fear…that nothing could happen.

Carol was calmed a few moments later when Andrea and Merle pushed through the crowd. She broke away from Daryl a moment and wrapped her arms around Andrea, not even trying to hide the fact that she was relieved to see that Ed hadn't found her alone at the restaurant and none of the images of having to identify her friend's body that her brain had offered her were going to come true.

"Good to see you too," Andrea said, hugging Carol back and digging some of the nuts out of the cone that Carol had honestly forgotten she was even holding. Carol thrust the wax paper cone at Andrea's hand, trying to get her breathing under control again where it had become ragged in the few seconds.

Andrea took the wax paper cone and looked at it, confused, and then looked back at Carol.

"You can have them," Carol said. She shook her head and hugged herself, Andrea's arm going around her and guiding her toward where Daryl and Merle were standing now, their breath fogging in the night air.

"What's going on?" Andrea asked.

"Carol thinks she saw Ed," Daryl offered.

Carol glared at him.

"I _did_ see Ed," Carol said. Daryl reached over and pulled her back to him, tugging her away from Andrea.

"That's what I meant," he said, rubbing her arm. She didn't miss the look that crossed Merle's face. "Was worried 'bout Andrea but I told her ya was good with her."

Merle and Andrea glanced at one another. Merle cleared his throat.

"Yeah," he said. "We're uh…we're good."

Merle glanced at Andrea and she nodded her head, stopping her chewing of the pralines. She smiled a little at Merle before turning to face Carol.

"Just fine," she said. "Got a little caught up at work so everyone else could leave…Merle waited on me."

"See?" Daryl said, squeezing Carol. "Ain't nothin' ta worry 'bout. If he's out here, he knows ta keep his ass in the damn shadows."

"Or under the fuckin' bridge he crawled out from under," Merle offered with a chuckle. "Son of a bitch better know better than ta start nothin' right in the damn middle a' the town. I'd hate ta go ta jail tonight."

Carol wrapped her arms around Daryl and inhaled deeply, taking in his scent and trying to calm her nerves. She knew she'd seen Ed, but he'd disappeared. She didn't know where he'd gone, but they were probably right. Ed was only allowed out here because the restraining order she had only covered so much. He was still a resident of Sweet Junction, even though he'd become a more or less mythical resident since his stint in prison, and the restraining order couldn't keep him away from town functions and public places as long as it wasn't her place of work while she was there, her private property, or he wasn't attempting to contact or harass her. He had just as much right as anyone else to be at the Christmas Eve parade. After all, it was important that people like Ed have rights.

Carol forgot about Ed, though, more or less as the night wore on. The parade started up before long and she huddled close to Daryl, stealing nuts out of the cone he held in his hand and watching as the pretty floats went by and people she'd seen her entire life strolled the streets in costumes throwing candy out at the children who were up well past their bedtimes on the one night of the year that they would have gladly retired hours before they had to.

Carol laughed out loud when the final float, decorated like a roof with a sleigh and some plastic reindeer, made its way in front of them. She waved, knowing she was lost in the crowd with everyone else, not realizing before this evening that Hershel would be playing Santa Clause, sitting up there on the sleigh in a bright red costume.

"That's Hershel!" She called at Andrea.

Anjelica, Michonne's oldest daughter, was asleep in his lap, but it didn't stop him from waving with his free arm and calling out Merry Christmas to everyone as the float, pulled by Maggie who was driving the old farm truck, slowly drifted past.

"Oh my God!" Andrea said with a laugh. "I didn't realize that Hershel was Santa this year!"

Daryl chuckled, the sound amplified for Carol who was leaning against him.

"That's what the hell he grew his damn beard out for," Daryl said. "Said when the kids pulled on his whiskers it made Christmas all the more real to 'em on account a' his whiskers was real."

Carol stayed still, just as she was, until the float had made its way past them. People were slowly starting to move about now and they would be breaking up soon. Daryl kept his arm around her, though, standing there, letting everyone else go where they would.

"Y'all headin' out ta the light show?" Daryl asked Merle and Andrea.

They looked at one another.

"We goin' out there for a lil' while," Merle said.

"I want to see the animated decorations," Andrea said. "They're my favorite part of the Christmas decorations."

Carol smiled at the mention of them. One part of the park was done almost entirely in animated decorations from what she remembered. Some sang, some danced, some just moved up and down. There was one she remembered from when she was young that was a snowman or something of the like that climbed a tree.

"We gotta wait here for Michonne an' Tyreese," Daryl said. "Told 'em we wouldn't head over without 'em. Where'd ya park?"

Merle cleared his throat again.

"We walked over from the apartment," he offered. "Left Andrea's car there…figured it'd be packed down here."

Daryl nodded slightly.

"Fine, we can give ya a ride back after we make a run through the park. Ain't gon' stay too damn long no way. Reckon Michonne's gonna wanna get her girls ta bed soon," Daryl responded.

It wasn't too long after he finished speaking that Tyreese approached them, his jacket most of the way zipped up and evidence of a sleeping Celine against his chest in a baby carrier, protected from the cold by the jacket.

"Michonne's coming," Tyreese said, hovering near them. "She had to get Angie back from Hershel."

"She looked so cute!" Carol declared.

Tyreese smiled.

"She didn't want to let go of him when he was holding her earlier, so he decided to take her with him. Looks like the poor thing didn't last long before she passed out.

Tyreese patted the lump in his jacket.

"Celine's been asleep since we parked the car almost," he said. "I think we're going to cut through the park pretty quickly so y'all don't need to try and wait up on us."

Daryl nodded at him, biting his lip and Carol rubbed her cheek against Daryl's chest.

"Just watch out, man," Daryl said. "Carol seen Ed an' he might be on the warpath or somethin'. Keep an eye on 'Chonne an' the girls."

Tyreese looked at Carol and then back at Daryl. He nodded.

"Always do, man…" Tyreese offered, turning now to look in the direction from which he'd come, realizing that Michonne was alone with Anjelica if she'd left the Greene's already. She was approaching, though, carrying a bundled and half sleeping Anjelica who was whining loud enough that she signaled their approach. "What's wrong with her?" Tyreese called out.

Michonne sighed loudly and stuck her tongue out, panting a little at the apparent weight of her daughter coupled with the distance she'd covered.

"Wanted to stay with Santa," Michonne said.

Carol smiled to herself as Daryl reached his arms out toward the little girl, probably with the hope of relieving Michonne's tired arms a moment since Tyreese was already occupied, and the little girl reached back toward him, sinking against him as Michonne passed her over.

"Thank you," Michonne panted.

"Ain't nothin'," Daryl said. "Keep close. Carol said she seen Ed an' we don't want no part a' his ass tonight."

Michonne looked at Carol and then stepped forward as they all started the trek toward the park. Carol felt Michonne slip an arm around her shoulder.

"You saw him out here?" Michonne asked as they fell in step behind Daryl and Tyreese with Andrea and Merle leading the pack.

"He was across the street," Carol said. "I saw him for just a minute, but he was there."

"But he didn't try to bother you or talk to you or anything?" Michonne asked.

Carol shook her head, hooking her arm around Michonne's waist to match her friend's hand placement around her own waist.

"No, he just stood there. He looked in my direction…it felt like he was watching me. I went for Daryl, but by the time we got back Ed had disappeared," Carol responded.

Michonne nodded, chewing at her lip for a second, her brows furrowed.

"It's nothing to worry about," she said. "Right, Daryl?" She called to the two ahead of them. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Right," Daryl said. He stopped walking and Tyreese glanced at him, following suit. "All the same, I'd rather the two of ya hop ya asses in front a' us where we can keep an eye on ya."

Carol didn't say anything, but she picked up her pace, her arm still around Michonne, until both of them were right behind Andrea and Merle. Daryl and Tyreese fell in behind them with the girls.

Up ahead, not too far, they could see the rest of the wave of people that were all headed out to the park. Carol squeezed Michonne a little as they walked and the woman returned the gesture, chuckling softly, both of them careful to keep their steps in sync as they walked.

Carol was still a little worried about the fact that she'd seen Ed with her own eyes, the first time since the court dates, but it was quickly dissolving in the holiday spirit around her. They'd go out, see the lights, and then they'd go home…to their warm and happy little house…and they'd have a good Christmas Eve night together. Their first Christmas Eve night together, and Carol had already made up her mind in the past little bit that she wasn't going to let Ed ruin that for her.


	127. Chapter 127

**AN: I don't say it every time, but I wanted to tell you all thank you for your reviews. They're really wonderful and I do appreciate them even if I don't respond to each and every one of them. They keep me going! Because you're all wonderful, I thought I'd go ahead and give you the second Christmas chapter.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl woke up early Christmas morning to the sound of pounding on the door, distant. His first thought was that Andrea had come home early…really early…from spending the night at Merle's apartment where they'd left her the night before after they'd all strolled through the Christmas light show in the park…a show they were going back to see again tonight.

Daryl got up and pulled on his boxers, nearly tripping over Lincoln who was dancing around, apparently deciding that the pounding on the door meant it was the perfect time to go piss.

Carol mumbled something from the bed and Daryl didn't respond. On second thought he fumbled around in the clothes piled on the dresser and found the gingerbread men pajama pants that Andrea had given him as an early Christmas present, declaring that his present to her was that she didn't want to see his "junk" over breakfast on Christmas morning.

Daryl walked through the house, still semi dark from the fact that the morning had only just sprung in Sweet Junction, and let Lincoln out the side door as he passed it, heading for the door where the knocking was coming from.

When he got there, he pulled the door open in a sleepy fog, not expecting Hershel and Miss Jo to be standing just outside it, bundled up and loaded down. Daryl pushed open the glass door to let them pass, confused.

He knew that Merle and Andrea were coming later. Michonne and Tyreese were coming too for dinner, as was Axel, but this was really damn early and Carol hadn't said shit about Hershel and Miss Jo coming.

The two passed through the door, Miss Jo humming to herself about the cold.

"We didn't wake you did we?" She asked, coming in and putting a present on the bar. Hershel passed in carrying a small Christmas tree. "Hershel, I told you it was too early, we woke them up," she chided.

Hershel chuckled.

"It's Christmas…all the youngsters are up early on Christmas," Hershel offered.

Daryl just stood there trying to take in the sudden invasion of his house.

"I'll get the rest of the stuff out of the car," Hershel offered, putting the tree down in the kitchen floor and dipping back out the glass door while Daryl continued to rub his eyes.

Miss Jo turned toward him, smiling.

"Maggie's spending the day with Glenn," she said. "And Beth wanted to do some family thing with Jimmy's family. Our house was so empty this morning…we thought we might…spread a little Christmas cheer. We brought the makings for breakfast, I'm going to cook…and we brought the little tree out the front window. Hershel thought we could decorate it."

Daryl stared blankly at her and tried to will himself out of his stupor. He could only nod, though.

Daryl turned when he heard Carol coming, shuffling her feet along the floor and he hoped she was more dressed than he was. Their house was more or less a clothing optional house most of the time. Even with Andrea living there they'd all settled into a sort of comfort at varying levels of nudity.

Carol was dressed in pajama pants and a t shirt, though, so he figured she was good to go and tried not to laugh at how atrocious here hair looked. It was evident that they'd ended their Christmas Eve trying to scratch that damn itch of hers that never got scratched. Daryl reached up and ran his fingers through his own hair, hoping to smooth it down in case he too looked like he'd been rolling around with some ferocity in the sheets.

"Good morning!" Miss Jo hummed, rushing forward and catching Carol in a hug. "Merry Christmas!"

Carol narrowed her eyes and Daryl could tell she was barely conscious.

"Merry Christmas?" She mumbled, the statement coming out sounding much more like a question than anything she was sure of.

Hershel reemerged then, carrying so many bags that Daryl was snapped out of his stupor to get the door open so the old man could pass through before his arms broke off from the load he was carrying. Hershel grunted a thanks as he passed through the door and unloaded everything on the counter.

"Hershel an' Miss Jo come ta make us breakfast," Daryl said, glancing at Carol who was standing, her face covered in confusion, Miss Jo's arm around her shoulder.

Carol looked around a second and scratched at her head, slowly becoming aware of the rat's nest of auburn curls she was sporting. She looked back at Daryl.

"They brought us a tree for us all ta decorate," Daryl offered.

Carol smiled then, though it was a slow forming smile.

"Thank you!" She declared, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Merry Christmas…I can…help with breakfast."

"Nonsense!" Jo said quickly. "I'm making the breakfast. You and Daryl can help Hershel with the tree."

Daryl fumbled around a little helping Hershel sort through the bags to find the ones that contained food they brought and the ones that contained decorations for the little tree that Hershel took into the living room. Then, while Hershel worked at making the tree stand straight instead of crooked in the little stand it was in and got it water, Daryl started a fire in the fireplace.

In the kitchen, Carol was helping Miss Jo find everything that she wanted to make breakfast and Daryl smiled at the giggling gossip the women were sharing, almost sounding like girls.

It might not be how they'd planned to spend their Christmas morning, but plans were made to be broken.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 

Andrea groaned a little, coming out of sleep. She blinked, realizing slowly that none of the night before had been a dream, though it certainly could have been.

Daryl and Carol had dropped her and Merle both off at his apartment. She'd climbed the stairs with him, wondering what in the hell was going on with Merle…what had happened to him. She wasn't entirely convinced that there wasn't something having to do with aliens to blame here.

And then they'd spent the night tangled up in bed together. It had been so much a replay of the night he'd stayed with her that it was almost like he had it all recorded or he was simply playing it by memory.

And now she was in that bed, warm and comfortable, the smell of them both surrounding her from the night before.

Merle lie next to her, his arm wrapped around her waist, snoring softly.

Andrea looked at him and thought that he even looked different right now. Gone was the crease between his eyebrows that she'd assumed was permanent from so much damn time spent scowling about one thing or another. In sleep he looked so much younger than he looked awake…so much younger than he even was.

Andrea sighed.

She didn't know what was going on with Merle, but a part of her feared that she would wake up at some point, or that he would wake up. She feared that it would be gone just as suddenly and inexplicably as it had begun and she didn't want to lose this…whatever this was.

She was ashamed at herself too, for the feelings that she felt pinballing around inside her. She was thinking things that she knew better than to think coupled with Merle Dixon, but she couldn't help herself. She was thinking things, even, that she considered for so long to be dangerous and foreign to herself. Yet her mind was going there.

_She was afraid that she was really falling in love with Merle Dixon…and even worse, she was letting herself wonder if Merle Dixon could be falling in love with her. _

Andrea knew she wasn't the kind of woman that any man should fall in love with. She wasn't the kind of person, really, that anyone should try to love.

Andrea had always assumed that she wasn't a person who was designed to be loved. Some people were made for it. They leant themselves easily to being loved. You met them and you just couldn't help yourself. Andrea wasn't one of those people, not at all. She never had been.

And there were things in her life…things in her past that she wasn't proud of. So much of the legend that had been built around her was false, but there was more truth to the legend than she cared to admit to anyone but herself. That truth, if it were known and not just a clanking pile of skeletons doing the rumba in her closet, would make her even less loveable than she already was.

But she'd wanted to believe…somehow…since finding Merle and Daryl…since finding two people just as, unlovable, perhaps as she was, that maybe there was a chance that someone, somewhere could love her. Since she'd found her friends…her first friends and her only friends…that maybe she was worthy of their friendship, and by extension, maybe even worthy of their love.

Still, she recognized that she was letting herself get swept up in fairy tales and make believe even as she lie here tangled in the sheets with Merle snoring softly beside her. She was letting herself believe that she was falling in love…an idea not too far-fetched…but also that it was safe to fall in love. She was letting herself believe that Merle Dixon, of all the people on the planet, might actually be falling in love with her…and that he might…if some terrible twist of fate ever ripped the lock off the closet and the dancing skeletons escaped…still love her despite knowing the truth about all that she was and all that she'd done.

It was all some kind of dream. Whether it was the kind you had when you were awake, or the kind you had when you were asleep, it was some kind of dream and she was at risk of waking from it. She sighed a little and rooted closer to the warmth of Merle's sleeping body.

Dream or not, though, she wanted to enjoy it just while she could. Maybe then, when she woke from it, she could still have it there in her mind for when she needed it. Just like the little match girl, she wanted to hold onto the flame for as long as she could before it died.

Merle stirred when Andrea rooted closer to him and moaned a little, his eyes opening to slits.

He smiled slightly.

"Mornin' darlin'," he growled, his voice gravely and thick.

Andrea smiled, feeling a lump in her throat that she didn't want to deal with.

"Mornin'," she responded, softly. "Merry Christmas."

Merle smiled again and moved his arm, rubbing at his face. He yawned.

"Merry Christmas ta ya too, sugah," he said. He rolled onto his back, stretching himself like some kind of animal and Andrea noticed the morning's tent that he made with the sheet.

"Mmm…" she hummed. "How about a little Christmas morning present?" She asked.

Merle glanced at her and then smirked when she directed her eyes toward the morning salute that his little Merle was offering.

Merle didn't say anything and Andrea slipped under the cover, taking him into her mouth. This was something she could do. It was something she was comfortable at. She could offer him this and know that he wouldn't be disappointed with it…and maybe his pleasure at the act would make the dream last just a little bit longer.

As she worked him, Merle moaned and bucked into her mouth, still sounding as though he hadn't roused entirely from his sleep. When he came, she swallowed down all that he offered her and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she came up from under the sheets.

She lingered away from him for the moment, knowing that most of the time Merle had a strict policy of not kissing her, or hardly getting near her for that matter, after she'd done what she'd just done.

"Thank ya," he said, his face relaxed and a little more awake than earlier. His breathing was rushed, but slowly calming.

Andrea smiled at him.

"You're welcome," she said, not remembering ever having been thanked for giving a blow job before. The closest she'd come, perhaps, to a thank you was some folded money slipped to her as someone zipped their pants.

Merle surprised her even more so by reaching out, rolling her nipple between his finger and his thumb and bringing his face to hers, catching her lips in a kiss that caught her so off guard that his tongue had to ask permission to gain access to her mouth.

Andrea felt like her brain couldn't process everything happening around her. Everything seemed so magical and so perfect that it had to be something that belonged to someone else. It couldn't be her life that she was living at the moment.

When Merle pulled out of the kiss he lingered above her for a second and then rolled over. She watched him get out of bed and leave the room, his white ass shining at her as he made his way toward the bathroom to relieve himself.

Andrea got up and followed him, not bothering to cover her own nakedness. From the bathroom she could hear the sounds of Merle relieving himself, coupled with his happy humming of a Christmas carol and she smiled.

"Do you have anything I can make for breakfast?" She called, heading toward the refrigerator.

"Prob'ly not if ya don't fancy a fuckin' beer," Merle growled, coming into the kitchen behind her. "Ain't had time ta go ta the store. We s'posed ta eat at Daryl's though…figure they might have somethin' ta hold our asses over 'til then."

Andrea nodded and turned around to face him.

"When do we go over there?" She asked.

Merle grunted.

"Just as soon as ya open ya fuckin' Christmas present…an' we get dressed. Thought we might take a shower. Ya smell like ya been fuckin' or sometin'."

Merle smirked at Andrea and she leaned in, sniffing his chest before bringing her tongue darting out to lick his nipple.

"You taste like sex," she said.

"Mmm…" Merle responded. "Taste pretty damn good then, don't I?"

Andrea nipped at his nipple gently and he tangled his hands in her hair, his fingers tugging at her tangled curls.

"You do," she said.

Merle broke away after a second and she watched as he walked over to the television. He reached around behind it and came out with a small box.

"Looka here, looka here," he declared. He whistled at the box. "Looks like Santy Clause done come ta see us. Musta come ta see you, 'cause I know I been one sorry fucker this year."

Andrea leaned against the counter, the cold fake wood of it cold on her ass. She couldn't keep herself from grinning and she was pretty sure she was blushing. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been given a Christmas gift and she wasn't sure why it felt embarrassing to know that she was about to receive one.

Merle walked over, offering it to her with an outstretched arm.

Andrea took the small box wrapped in newspaper and held it in her hand, trying not to cry. The last thing she needed to do was cry. She knew that Merle wasn't fond of tears and she didn't want to do anything to end the dream so soon.

Merle passed his finger under her chin and tipped her face up, bringing his lips to hers in a deep kiss again.

"Open it, darlin'," Merle said. "Don't fuckin' cry on it."

Andrea realized that she was crying, despite her best efforts not to. She nodded a little and quickly unwrapped it, holding a black felt box in her hand. She felt her heart pounding at the prospect of the box. It could contain anything…and that was the truth. With Merle…especially with this Merle that she didn't even know…all things were possible.

Andrea flipped the lid on the box and inside there was a gold chain. Hanging on the chain was a little gold heart with something like a keyhole in the middle of it. Andrea stood there a minute, holding the box and looking at the necklace, unable to look at Merle or even say anything.

Merle responded by taking the box out of her hand and undoing the necklace from its captive position.

"Ain't never bought no fuckin' jewelry for a woman before," Merle said. He held the delicate chain up, its size a stark contrast to his fingers. "Told the man at the store what I was lookin' for…or what I thought I was lookin' for. He said ya'd like it."

Andrea looked at him and nodded, not trusting her voice.

Merle frowned.

"Ya don't like it," he said.

"No…I do!" Andrea said suddenly, disliking the fact that her voice came out all slobbery and sloppy sounding. She reached out and touched the little heart dangling from the chain and it rocked back and forth in his fingers. "I love it," she said.

"Lemme put it on ya," Merle said.

Andrea turned around, collecting her hair into her fist, and waited while Merle's big fingers fumbled with the tiny clasp. Finally the necklace fell around her neck and she turned around to face him again, completely aware that some of the tears she was trying to hold back were making a great escape from her eyes.

"See," Merle grunted. "I told ya that ya was spoken for. This here heart, see…'s gotta lock…'cause it's all locked up tight…can't nobody else get to it."

Andrea nodded her head slightly. She didn't know what she wanted from Merle…she didn't know what she wanted him to say, but she knew that this was likely all that Merle could say, and for him it was saying so much.

"Is it mine?" She asked. She swallowed and fingered the heart. "Is it mine that's locked up?"

Merle grunted.

"Could be, I reckon…" Merle said. "Mostly I figured it was mine…been locked up a long damn time."

"Shouldn't you be the one wearing this, then?" Andrea asked, wiping her nose on her arm and looking at him.

Merle cleared his throat.

"Nah…" he responded. "I give it to ya…reckon you the one oughta be wearin' it."

"Thank you for giving me the necklace," Andrea responded.

Merle nodded and turned away, heading toward the bathroom, presumably for the shower that he had already dictated would follow the gift giving.

"Weren't talkin' 'bout the necklace," Merle said.

Andrea stood a moment longer, leaning against the cold counter, and then she smiled a little, following him toward the bathroom to take a shower and get herself together for Christmas.


	128. Chapter 128

**AN: Here you go, the last of the Christmas chapters. **

**I might offer you a fluff/feels warning for this chapter. I think I got carried away with my feels for the night. Oh well, it happens.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol couldn't have imagined a better Christmas if she'd sat down to construct one herself out of all the fairy tales she'd ever read. Her house…their home…was warm and inviting and it was alive with friends. More than that, it was alive with her family, and it had been a long time since she'd felt so surrounded by family.

Losing her parents had been difficult for her. She'd been an only child and losing her parents, when her father had passed especially and left her feeling alone in the world, had made it seem like she was on some sort of life journey and everyone else had dropped off around her.

She'd been left feeling isolated. The distant relatives that she still had were that…distant. They were the kind of people that sent Christmas cards when they remembered and the phone calls had stopped altogether not long after she'd found herself an adult orphan.

All she'd had was Ed…and that had only served to make her life unbearable. She'd been alone, trapped in Ed's hell, and she'd given up hope of really ever having anyone or connecting with another soul.

But now that was gone. It was a distant memory…a bad memory…but it was so far removed from her reality at the moment that it could almost be something she made up instead of something that she'd lived and experienced day in and day out.

Hershel and Jo had spent the whole day there and showed no signs of leaving. At the moment they were gathered in the living room, Hershel and Jo on the couch occupying the majority of it, and Carol next to them, squeezed between Jo and the arm of the couch. Daryl was sitting on the floor, just near her legs, and every now and again he smiled up at her or reached to squeeze her calf.

Tyreese and Michonne were there with the girls and Michonne had brought them a box of toys to play with. Both of them had been entertained the entire day, though the toys had little to do with it. Celine crawled around and played with the box the toys had come in more than anything, or stripped the tiny tree of the decorations that they'd put on it, while Anjelica's full attention was on Lincoln for most of the day who was a patient and calm host for her attentions.

Merle and Andrea had shown up just after they were finishing breakfast and saved them from having to put any food away since the two of them quickly polished off everything that was left.

Merle was on his best behavior, actually being oddly an asset to the group instead of bringing the party down any, and Andrea seemed light and happy, laughing and teasing with him throughout the day.

Even Axel had come with Juniper, and though the little dog cowered in his lap or on the couch smashed between Hershel and Jo so as to avoid the Tasmanian devil that Anjelica could be from time to time, they fit right into the tapestry of the moment.

And Carol couldn't think of a single thing she might have changed to make the day even one bit better than it had already been.

"Did y'all wanna go down ta the park?" Daryl asked at some point, drawing the attention of everyone's chatter in his direction.

They'd rushed through the lights and decorations at the park the night before. Between the fussiness of the girls and the fact that everyone was simply just tired, they'd made their circle through the space quicker than they'd originally intended it to be. Therefore, they'd thought that maybe tonight they'd go down and stroll through with a little more calm.

Hershel grunted a little at the question and patted Jo's leg.

"I think we'll probably pass on that," he said. "Old bones need their rest."

Jo chuckled and Carol smiled at her when Jo squeezed her arm.

"He just wants to go home earlier because they're showing A Christmas Story on television tonight," Jo explained. "He's been waiting to watch it."

It was Hershel's turn to chuckle then.

"You don't have to go telling all my secrets, you know," he said, nudging Jo.

"I think we're going to pass too," Tyreese said. He was sitting on the floor beside Michonne's legs. She was sitting in one of the dining room chairs that she'd drug in there, insisting that if she got on the floor, which was the preferred seating for several people in the group, she might never get back up and she certainly wasn't going to do it while retaining much of her dignity.

"You're going to watch the movie too?" Carol asked.

"No," Michonne answered for him. "We're going over to my parents' house," she explained. She glanced around, her eyes falling on the clock over the fireplace mantle. "We actually should leave soon. They want to see the girls and I don't want to take them over there just to have them pass out as soon as we get there."

Tyreese started to his feet, stirred by the mention of it and Carol felt her heart sink a little. She understood that people had to go home and they had lives. It really wasn't that she had any kind of problem with them leaving, it was more that she hated to see everyone breaking up and actually calling an end to the day. She knew well enough that once one left, other would trickle after. It was the odd way that things seemed to work.

Surprisingly, though, after Michonne and Tyreese gathered the girls and offered their goodbyes, no one else made any move to leave for the moment. Carol realized, about five minutes after they'd left, that she'd been sitting in her tight position on the couch, a little tense. She relaxed and sunk back into cushion.

When she felt Lil' Bit flutter, she put her hand over it, and nudged Daryl with her foot. He turned and looked at her a moment before offering her his hand and she put it over where the kicking was taking place.

"Is she moving?" Jo asked.

Carol smiled and nodded. Jo outstretched her hand and Daryl moved his so Carol could position Jo's hand. The woman smiled and sat there for a moment until the kicking subsided.

"It's so exciting," Jo said. "And then you reach the point where you start to feel like they never stop moving."

Carol smiled at her.

"I can't imagine that," Carol said. "She has her moments, but it always seems like she stops when she realizes that someone is paying attention to her."

"She's shy," Daryl offered, turning around on the floor so that he could face them. Lincoln, stirred up by Daryl's shifting, came over and crawled into Daryl's lap without even so much as asking permission. Daryl moved around to allow the dog, which was now quite the lapful even for Daryl, to get comfortable. "She's like her old man," Daryl finished once his lap companion had settled down.

A chuckle ran through everyone at the thought that Lil' Bit, acting like Daryl, would shy away from doing something once she knew that she was being observed.

"Oh!" Jo said suddenly. "You didn't open your present!"

Carol almost laughed at the somewhat shocked face that Jo was making, like she couldn't believe that she'd forgotten something so crucial.

"Where did you put it, Hershel?" Jo asked. "You didn't leave it, did you?"

Hershel chuckled and pushed himself up to his feet. He winked at Carol.

"No, dear. I didn't leave it. After the sixth time you told me to put it in the truck this morning it was pretty hard to forget…even for me," Hershel responded.

Hershel passed into the kitchen and looked around, growing confused.

"Was it that box ya brought in?" Daryl asked from his spot.

"That would be the one," Hershel responded from the kitchen. "You know, the one with the bow and the candy cane wrapping paper?"

Merle snorted and everyone else laughed at him as much as they laughed at Hershel. Even Daryl laughed, though the joke was on him originally.

"Put it over out the way," Daryl said. "Look in the dinin' room in there. Tucked it in the corner."

Hershel walked over there and a moment later he chuckled, leaning down to presumably pick up the present.

"It's not as pretty as it was," he said, picking up the box that now had tattered paper hanging off of it and the ribbon that was tied around it falling off. "I don't know if it was the girls or Lincoln, but it appears someone was trying to help you unwrap it."

"Oh well," Jo said, seeing the sad condition of the box when Hershel brought it into the living room and offered it to Carol. "It's not the wrapping that matters, I suppose."

Carol smiled just at the thought of the present. It was a nice gesture, and that was really all that mattered. The wrapping meant very little, and whatever was inside the box really didn't mean all that much when it came down to it.

"It was beautiful," Carol offered. "And I guess it's only fitting that around here someone would help unwrap it."

"Well, I hope you like it," Jo urged. "Go ahead, open it."

Carol nodded in Daryl's direction as though to ask that he open it and he took the box from her, putting it on the floor next to him. Lincoln perked up at the proximity of the box, suggesting that he might not have worked alone, but he was probably involved in the original unwrapping.

Daryl wrestled the paper off of the box and Carol wondered when was the last time that he'd opened a present. She almost wished, in the moment, that she'd broken their agreement not to buy each other anything, because she suspected that Daryl might not have gotten many presents in his life. He seemed pleased, though, as he finished whatever Lincoln and, most likely, Anjelica had started. He pulled out his pocket knife and slid it across the tape that held the cardboard box shut that advertised some kind of contraption.

"Don't worry," Jo offered, looking at the box. "We didn't get you a salad shooter…they're really not very good anyway. I just used the box."

Carol smiled at her, curious now as to what Daryl might be about to unwrap.

As he wrestled it out of the box, Carol slowly became aware that it was a quilt. He started to unfold it, passing part of it to Carol, and she realized it was a very large and very beautiful quilt. She couldn't hold back the sigh that escaped while Daryl helped her unfold it so that they could see the whole thing.

It was a quilt that was large enough for even their own bed and made up of patches in pink, purple, yellow, blue, and green with a soft white edging that ran around the entire thing. In the middle of the quilt, sewn in black cloth letters was the quote "A baby is God's way of saying the world should go on…" and in the bottom right corner were smaller letters that spelled "Daryl and Carol" and in the other corner was lettered "Lil' Bit" with the year that the girl would be born.

Carol felt like she was choking at the gesture and gave up all hope of stopping the tears that were trying to run out of her eyes.

"It's beautiful!" She exclaimed.

Daryl was holding the bottom of it, his thumbs rubbing across the edging, and he was smiling.

"That's gorgeous, it really is," Andrea offered.

Hershel hummed something.

"Jo's been working on that thing since the day I came in the house and told her that Daryl told me you were expecting," he offered.

Carol swiped at her tears and turned herself enough on the couch that she could catch Jo in a hug. Jo laughed at her and rubbed her back before breaking out of the hug and fingering the corner of the quilt.

"I made one for each of my children," Jo said. "Each one is a little different, and as far as I know, they all still have them."

"Thank you!" Carol declared.

"Thanks," Daryl echoed, though Carol knew that for him the item wouldn't have the same significance that it had for her, and she knew that Jo knew it too.

"Well," Jo said, moving her hand and rubbing Carol's belly. "I thought you might like…and it's something she can use even when she's older. Bethie still keeps hers on her bed and it's the only quilt she wants when she's sick."

Carol smiled at the thought.

"I love it," she said. "I can't thank you enough."

"You don't have to," Jo said.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, no one really knowing what to say or what to do. Finally Jo sighed and rubbed Carol's belly again before turning and clapping Hershel on the leg hard enough that anyone in the room could hear it.

"You ready to go and watch your movie? Ralphie?" Jo asked.

Hershel chuckled.

"It is about that time," he said. "We should get home just in time to make some hot chocolate before it starts…and we've got some caramel popcorn."

"So you can spend the rest of the night complaining about the kernels getting stuck in your gums," Jo said.

Hershel got up from his place and offered a hand to Jo, getting her to her feet. Carol started to get up to hug them by, but Jo waved her back.

"You all stay down," she said. She leaned in, hugging Carol lightly. "We know our way out."

"Merry Christmas," Hershel offered, waving at them, his hand going to Jo's back. "You youngsters have fun."

Carol smiled and waved at them, echoing the Merry Christmas that came as a rumble from everyone.

Merle snorted again.

"Ya have fun too, ya hear?" Merle offered.

When they'd left, he turned back to the group, working on a candy cane he'd gotten out of Michonne's box of treats and had almost sucked on to the point that it resembled a weapon more than a Christmas treat.

"Them ole people goin' home ta do the wild thing," he said, his voice low.

"Jesus, Merle!" Daryl declared, slinging the balled up wad of wrapping paper off the box at Merle's head. He missed and it hit Andrea. Merle chuckled.

"What?" He said. "They old…not dead."

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Carol wasn't disappointed at all that by the time that Axel left and by the time that Andrea and Merle retired to bed, without any explanation offered as to why they were both staying at the house, they'd missed any real window of opportunity to go down to the park.

She was tired anyway, and it had been a good day. It had been the kind of day where you could excuse any little bad thing that had happened simply because it wasn't enough to put a damper on all that felt right and good in the world.

Maybe that was what it really meant to feel like it was Christmas. It was, she would venture to say, the best Christmas that she'd ever had.

And when Andrea and Merle had retired to Andrea's room, Lincoln going with them out of curiosity and much to Merle's grumbling dismay, Daryl and Carol had gone to their room.

Now Carol was lying in bed, watching as Daryl stood in the bathroom and shaved since he'd neglected it throughout the rather busy day that they'd had.

"That quilt really is beautiful," Carol said. "Do you even know how much work that must have taken?"

Daryl grunted.

"'at's how Miss Jo is 'bout them things," Daryl said.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Daryl?" Carol asked. She wanted to know that he'd had as wonderful of a day as she'd had, but she didn't know if that was even possible for anyone else.

Daryl grunted again, leaning toward the mirror.

"Best damn Christmas I ever had," he offered. He turned and looked at her a minute, smiling, stilling his shaving. Carol smiled back and rubbed her belly.

"Can you believe that next Christmas Lil' Bit'll be here?" She asked. "We'll get to have her right here…spending the whole day with everyone."

Daryl chuckled a little.

"Hard ta believe," he responded.

Carol was quiet, watching Daryl shave. When he was finally done she watched him go through the motions of rinsing his razor and dropping it with a clank into the cup that rested on the side of the sink. He washed his face then and stood in the doorway facing her, drying it with a towel.

"I was thinkin'," Daryl started. Carol perked up, curious to see what he might have to say at the moment. "'Bout what we gon' name her."

They'd been discussing Lil' Bit's given name at some length. On the one hand, Carol was a little worried about deciding on a name. She still had this heart stopping fear from time to time that something was going to happen and something would take the little girl away from them. She'd almost convinced herself that as long as they didn't agree on a name, it somehow wouldn't hurt so bad when it happened.

Daryl hadn't been of the same mind, though. He was more about believing that absolutely nothing would happen. Their daughter was coming and she'd be perfect and beautiful and he wanted a name for her. He wanted to know what it sounded like…what it felt like on his tongue before she even got there to use it.

And so they'd been working on the name, Carol realizing that her worry was just that…worry…and that nothing was going to keep her from worrying about one thing or another, just as a name for the little girl wasn't going to make her not so.

They had agreed, though, that they'd keep it a secret for themselves…simply something they shared…until the baby was born.

They'd already settled on the first name. Carol had asked if she could name her after her mother. Her mother's name was Elizabeth, and Carol thought it was a pretty name, but she didn't want to name her daughter Elizabeth exactly. She didn't want her to spend her life being known as Liz or Lizzie or Beth or Bethie. She'd heard her mother complain about the nicknames stuck on her when she simply wanted to be Elizabeth. And so she'd decided to change it just a little and she'd suggested to Daryl that they name her Eliza.

She hadn't known what Daryl would think about the name, but he'd immediately fallen in love with it and Carol adored the way the name sounded in Daryl's voice and how sweet it came out when he whispered it to her belly.

The middle name, though, she'd left to Daryl, declaring that it was only fair that if she'd thought up the first name, he was responsible for the middle name. At first he'd wanted to simply go with Ann. It was Carol's middle name and it had been her mother's middle name…it had been her grandmother's name as well. She'd accepted it as the middle name for their daughter, not wanting to dispute whatever Daryl wanted, but she had to admit that she'd hoped it would be something different…something he'd thought about more than just recycling her name.

This was the first time he'd mentioned the baby's name in a while, though, so she was curious as to what he was thinking.

"What is it?" She asked. "Did you change your mind on Eliza Ann?"

Daryl shook his head and hung the towel back on the towel rod.

"Not exactly," he said. "Least not the 'liza part. I like that. But I was thinkin' we namin' her after ya Ma…an' I ain't exactly wanted ta name her after my Ma…but I was thinkin' we might could name her Josephine…ya know…like after Miss Jo? Then she'd be Eliza Jo."

Carol smiled.

"Eliza Jo," she echoed. She grinned again. "Eliza Jo Dixon…I like that."

"Yeah?" Daryl asked, switching off the light and crawling into the bed beside her. She shifted down so she could lie on her side facing him, the smell of his shaving cream strong in the air.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I like that a lot."

Daryl leaned over and found her mouth, lazily kissing her, his hand warm on her as it found her belly.

"Then that's what we gon' call her," he said. "'Liza Jo Dixon."

Daryl chuckled after a minute.

"What?" Carol asked.

"Nothin'," he said. "Was just thinkin' I really like it…'Liza Jo Dixon."

"Mmm…" Carol said, reaching out to hug him. "I really like it too. You did good, Daddy."

Daryl chuckled again.

"Merry Christmas," he said with a yawn. "I love ya, woman."

"Merry Christmas," Carol offered. "I love you too."

"Roll on over an' let me hold ya," Daryl said.

Carol complied and rolled, her back pressing against Daryl. He rubbed her belly and kissed the back of her neck and she closed her eyes, figuring that after a day like today, she could hope to be like the children in the poem and dream of wonderful things…even better than sugarplums.

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AN: I don't own the little match girl referenced in the last chapter. I don't own the quote on the quilt…I don't own really any of the references that I make to anything that's any form of popular culture or ever has been. I figured I'd toss that in if you weren't sure. LOL


	129. Chapter 129

**AN: Here you ago, another little chapter. That's probably all for me today since I'll have to be focused on getting ready for the show tonight! LOL**

**I'm so glad that so many of you seem to like the name. I really love it and I'm usually very bad at names, so I'm so pleased to see that everyone was fond of it! I know that a lot of people thought I was going to go with Sophia, but I just didn't really want to do that. Nothing against Sophia, of course, but the story is so different from the show that I just decided not to do that one. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter and the show tonight! Let me know what you think of the chapter! **

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Carol was sick. She'd started getting sick the day before, but it had blown up over night until today there was no denying that she was sick. She had the flu, at least that's what they'd all decided it was, and she'd already spent some time arguing about how unfair life was because she was the only one of any of them that was sick and she was the only one of any of them that had bothered to take a flu shot in hopes of avoiding the mess.

Daryl had stayed home from work to take care of her. Andrea was on her day off, so she'd been at the house all day long as well, helping Daryl. Carol had spent the entire day on the couch going somewhere between sleeping and complaining about the fact that she was sick.

And tonight was supposed to be one of the nights that they were going to their baby class, but Daryl was already trying to get himself over the fact that they weren't going, even though he was disappointed.

He brought Carol some of the chicken noodle soup that Andrea had made and handed her the bowl, moving her blankets around her and sitting on the edge of the couch near her.

"Ya gonna feel better if ya eat this," Daryl said. He glanced in Andrea's direction where she was sitting in the dining room in one of the chairs that she'd angled so that she had a pretty clear view of the couch.

"Well, you might not feel better," Andrea offered, "but at least you won't be hungry. I've never figured out how soup was supposed to solve anything anyway."

Carol swiped at her nose with the blanket that was around her shoulders before drinking a little from the bowl in her hand. Daryl had brought her a spoon, but apparently she'd decided not to use it at the moment.

"It's not going to solve anything," Carol said. "It's the flu…the stupid flu…and now I have to just suffer through it, right?"

Daryl felt bad for her. He wished he could take it away, but there wasn't anything that he could really do about it.

"Need anythin' else?" He asked.

Carol shook her head and sipped at the soup again.

"I'm fine," she said. "I just want to go back to sleep."

"Soon as ya eat'cha soup ya can go back ta sleep," Daryl said. He glanced back at Andrea, but she was focused on a tug of war game with Lincoln. There wasn't anything she could do about the flu either. "Do I need ta call someone an' tell 'em we ain't comin' tonight?" Daryl asked.

Carol looked at him and frowned.

"I forgot tonight's the class," she said. She glanced at the clock. "You could still go…I know you wanted to go."

Daryl shook his head, chuckling.

"Ya sick, we ain't goin'. Don't reckon they'd thank ya for comin' in there with the flu," Daryl responded.

Carol frowned at him again and sipped at the soup.

"You wanted to go tonight, though," Carol said. "You could go on your own. I've got the flu, Daryl. I'm not going to die…at least not literally. I'm just going to stay right here on the couch. You should go."

Daryl had been looking forward to this week since they'd started the class. They were supposed to get their babies for the week tonight and learn how to take care of them. It was sort of the class project. They were going to keep baby diaries or something like that and then they were going to discuss the different things they'd thought and learned about what to expect from the babies by spending the week with their electronic dolls.

But Carol was sick and Daryl figured that dragging her to class would be an asshole thing to do when she seemed reluctant to even get up to go to the bathroom every time she needed to go.

"Ain't goin' by myself ta the class," Daryl said. "An' ya sick…gotta take care of ya."

"Daryl, I don't need you to take care of me," Carol responded. "Really…I'm fine. And I think it's so sweet that you want to stay with me and take care of me…but I'm really going back to sleep. You're just going to be bored. You might as well go. Pick up the baby and take notes for me or whatever. You can fill me in on everything when you get home. It's better that one of us go than neither of us…Bobbie might give out some secrets and we'll miss them if no one goes."

Daryl chuckled a little at Carol's face. She was offering him a smile, but it looked out of place with her red nose tired eyes.

"That'll look real damn funny," Daryl said. "Me walkin' up in that shit alone."

Carol smiled.

"Everyone knows you there already," Carol said. "Just tell them I'm sick and you're sitting in."

She broke off, giving into a cough and Daryl reached over to steady the bowl she was holding while she finished the coughing fit so that she didn't end up with a lap full of soup to go with everything else.

"You should go, really," Carol said. "Take Andrea."

Andrea perked up at the mention of her name.

"What are we doing to Andrea?" Andrea asked.

Daryl chuckled.

"Says ya should go ta baby class with me," Daryl said.

"Oh no…" Andrea responded. "Oh no…no…no…"

Carol glanced in Andrea's direction.

"Go with Daryl, please?" Carol asked. She wiped her nose again and Daryl made a mental note that if he was going anywhere he was going to at least bring her a roll of toilet paper to use as tissue. He thought they had one out there earlier, but Lincoln had more than likely stole it to destroy it somewhere in the house or either it was lost in the nest of pillows and blankets that Carol was curled up in. "I'd go if I could," she said. "Please, Andrea? Tonight's baby night and Daryl wanted to go to that one."

Daryl felt his face burn red at the mention. He didn't really want anyone to know that he wanted to do the stupid project with the babies. It was just that he'd never really been around a baby before…not for a long time…and even though he knew the doll wasn't like a real baby exactly, he thought he'd like the practice.

Andrea looked at them both, screwing her face up in concern.

"What do I have to do?" She asked, not seeming entirely sure of this.

"Nothing," Carol responded for Daryl. "Just go and keep him company, listen so you can tell me anything I need to know."

Andrea sighed.

"And who's gonna stay with you?" Andrea asked.

"I'm fine alone," Carol said.

"Oh hell no ya ain't!" Daryl responded. That would be the one thing he wouldn't stand for. They knew that Ed was out there somewhere and he'd been spotted here and there in Sweet Junction. The last thing he was going to do was leave Carol alone somewhere, even if it was in their house.

"Call Michonne," Andrea offered.

"She's got the girls," Carol said. "I'm not giving Michonne or those babies the flu. I'll be fine."

"What about Merle?" Daryl asked. He knew it wasn't an ideal solution, but it was better than leaving Carol alone. He'd have to drive across town to pick him up, and that would mean they'd be late to the class, but at least he'd know that someone was there with Carol.

Carol looked at him, though, her face expressing that she thought he was crazy. He couldn't help but chuckle in response.

"Call Axel," Carol said finally. "He's right down the street. He'll come over and tell me stories or something while I nap…it'll be fine."

"Axel's probably a pretty good nurse," Andrea offered.

Daryl bit at his thumb and nodded.

"Ya sure ya ain't gon' care?" Daryl asked. "'Cause I can stay if ya want me ta stay."

Carol smiled at him half-heartedly.

"I have a blanket…I have soup…I have Lincoln," Carol said. "What more could a girl want? Send Axel over and take Andrea." Carol glanced back at the clock. "And you better get a move on…you don't want to be late."

Daryl leaned over to kiss her and she offered him her cheek. She wasn't as warm to the touch as she had been earlier, and Daryl was at least pleased with that.

"I'ma get'cha some more tissues," Daryl said. "An' I'ma call Axel."

Daryl got up to go for the tissues and directed his attention to Andrea.

"Go put'cha fuckin' shoes on so we can get ready ta go…an' get'cha pillow," he directed to her.

"What do I need a pillow for?" Andrea asked.

"Just get the shit," Daryl responded, slipping into the bathroom to get a roll of toilet paper for Carol.

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"Don't say shit ta Merle 'bout this," Daryl warned as he was getting out the truck at the Y. Andrea slid out her side and slammed the door, coming around the back of the truck by the time that Daryl was dropping his keys into his pocket.

They'd left Carol at home with Axel keeping her company. The man had jumped at the mention of any company and apparently a sleeping Carol was preferable over whatever he had…which was essentially nothing…at home. Now they were ready to go to the baby class, but Daryl was already hearing the harassment he might suffer from Merle over taking Andrea to the class and being enthusiastic about the baby project. Carol had already agreed to make it out to be a chore he was being forced to do if his brother asked, but he wanted to be sure that Andrea wasn't going to rat him out either.

Andrea eyed him as she circled around, her pillow under arm.

"You think I'm saying anything to Merle about this?" She asked. "You better not say anything about it."

Daryl chuckled.

"Long as we hear each other," Daryl said.

"Loud and clear," Andrea responded. Daryl chuckled again and reached out, shoving at her shoulder a little to push her toward the Y.

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Andrea wasn't sure, sometimes, how she got drug into the things that she got drug into. Daryl had introduced her to the class as his sister, which wasn't entirely true, but it was easier than trying to explain to a bunch of people she considered complete strangers who she really was.

What would they have said anyway? She lived with Daryl and Carol because she was working things out with his brother who may or may not be suffering from either a mental breakdown at the moment or perhaps is part of an alien experiment to put hearts into the bodies of humans that they'd snatched and found to be lacking them?

It was easier to go with sister, and Daryl thought quickly on his feet when it came to making things as simple as possible.

And so here she was, her pillow in her lap, sitting on a kindergarten nap mat next to Daryl, surrounded by women who looked uncomfortably huge and men that just looked uncomfortable. In fact, Andrea reasoned that Daryl and the woman leading the class, Bobbie, were the only two people in the room that didn't look uncomfortable out something, herself included.

Andrea shifted, thinking the mats were uncomfortable and would be even more so if she was as big as a boat like most of the women in the room.

Apparently they were down a couple…someone had their blessed event and had checked out the class. Andrea listened with absolutely no interest as they gave details on the bouncing baby boy's weight and well…she tuned out after that.

Finally it seemed they were on to something as Bobbie brought out a box of babies…the moment Daryl had been waiting for and the fathers…who were clearly more able to move at a higher velocity than the mothers, went over to sort through it. Daryl lingered beside her.

"Well?" She asked, elbowing him. "Go get your kid," she finished.

Daryl looked at her, his cheeks giving away that he was embarrassed to look too enthusiastic about it. Andrea offered him a smile.

"Go get your doll, Daryl. I'm not going to tell Merle. Besides…I'm supposed to be over here being pregnant and stuff. Don't make me crawl to the box," Andrea said.

Daryl nodded a little and went over, joining the other men as they sorted through the box of mechanical babies. Andrea worked hard on controlling her face so that she wouldn't laugh at the men that were picking through the babies with more interest than any of them would have probably confessed to outside of the confines of these four walls.

Finally, Daryl turned and came back, sitting on the floor next to her, holding the doll by the waist.

"That's not how you hold a baby," Andrea said.

"Ain't doin' nothin' yet," Daryl said, looking at the doll with some concern.

His questions were answered a few moments later when Bobbie instructed them all on how to turn on their little babies and handed out Ziploc baggies with supplies because apparently the baby came with accessories. Andrea took the baggie and rifled through it in her hands.

"So after the baby's born," she asked quietly, not wanting to get in trouble for talking in class, though it was something she'd been in trouble a lot for in her life, "is Carol gonna spit out a baggie full of trinkets too?"

Daryl shot her a look and Andrea stifled a giggle.

"Sorry…this is serious…" she said.

Then their doll started crying. Andrea looked around. Theirs was the only doll crying at the moment. She shot a look at Daryl who already looked panicked.

"Stop it!" Andrea commanded.

"I'm tryin'!" Daryl responded, trying to rock the doll.

Bobbie laughed, her attention apparently having been called by the electronic baby's protests.

"That's fine," she said. "You probably need to feed it or change it. Now the doll will go through a variety of needs that it has. Sometimes it'll need to be fed, sometimes it'll need to be changed, and even other times it will simply need to be rocked. Babies need attention too, even when their needs are met."

Andrea fished around in the bag and offered Daryl the bottle that was in there. He tried feeding the thing and it got quiet. He grinned at her, somewhat proud of himself for shutting up the thing.

"See?" Bobbie said from where she was sitting and trying to get another doll to turn on that had apparently decided it didn't want to join the class. "It just needed to be fed."

"She," Andrea offered. "It is a girl…isn't it?"

Bobbie smiled.

"The babies are gender neutral, but you're welcome to pretend they're whatever you want them to be," Bobbie said.

Andrea watched as all the couples worked with the babies that seemed to be springing to life one at a time. Apparently these babies were complicated little creatures to some degree, in that if you turned them wrong and stuff, they would start crying, but in other ways Andrea was already coming up with her own little set of ways to get around the so called baby's needs.

She figured you didn't need the bottle. A finger over the sensor would do as soon as you isolated and located where it was exactly. The same thing could go for the diaper.

Of course, as she was watching Daryl "take care" of the doll and she was thinking about ways to get around actually caring for the stupid thing, she realized that maybe she was missing the point of the doll.

They sat through the rest of the class and Andrea tried to listen to back Daryl up about what they were supposed to be recording in the notebook she assumed they had at the house for this project. Different thoughts and feelings that emerged while they spent the week caring for their bald little baby doll.

When everything was done, they were supposed to do some relaxing breathing techniques, which Andrea didn't actually participate in, and then they were free to go after having cookies and juice if they wanted them.

Andrea got to her feet almost as soon as Bobbie quit talking and made a beeline for the door. Daryl shuffled after her, the doll in his arms so it wouldn't cry from being tipped wrong and the sandwich baggie shoved in his pocket.

"Ya ain't want no cookies?" Daryl asked as they hit the hallway.

Andrea glanced back at him.

"Is that a requirement?" She asked, wrinkling her brow. Daryl shook his head.

"No…but Carol likes the oatmeal ones that Bobbie brings," Daryl said.

"I'll pass. I want to get out of babyville," Andrea responded, scooting down the hallways in the reverse order of turns that they'd taken to arrive there.

"Can ya carry the baby ta the car?" Daryl asked.

Andrea stopped walking and turned around.

"Why? Looks like you've got it," Andrea said. Daryl gnawed at his lip.

"I just don't want no one ta see me carryin' it ta the car," Daryl said.

Andrea snorted.

"You've got that thing for a whole week," Andrea said. "I have a feeling plenty of people are going to see you carrying it plenty of places. You might as well start feeling better about it now."

"So ya ain't gon' carry it?" Daryl asked.

Andrea reached out and tipped the doll and started its mechanical screaming.

"Damn it!" Daryl said, pulling it back and trying to rock it. "What the hell'd ya do that for! Now I gotta get it quiet again."

Andrea laughed.

"See, you're better with the doll than I am," she offered. "You can carry it."

She continued through the building and out into the parking lot while Daryl was still trying to hush the doll from the havoc she'd wreaked. While he looked for his keys, she smiled and waved like she was Miss America at the other couples who were spilling out to get into their vehicles, some with noisy babies and others with silent ones.

When they finally got in, Daryl locked the doors and they sat there a moment while he fumbled to change the baby's diaper, finally making the thing quiet down.

"Ya gotta hold it while I drive, Andrea," Daryl said. "An' don't be an asshole 'bout it neither or I'ma tell Carol that'cha ain't touchin' Lil' Bit when she gets here."

Andrea chuckled at him and made her best apologetic face. She took the doll from him and balanced it in the crook of her arm while she waited for him to start the truck and drive them back.

"I'm sorry I made your doll cry," Andrea said, examining the doll in the dark in search of the mouth sensor in case she needed to "feed" the thing on the drive.

"S'alright," Daryl said. "But'cha gotta take this serious. It's like a test drive an' we all need all the fuckin' help we can get."

Andrea chuckled again.

"Did you want a doll when you were little, Daryl?" Andrea asked.

"Shut up," Daryl responded.

"I'm serious!" Andrea said. "A lot of little boys want dolls…the only reason they don't get them is because society says there's something wrong with it. Maybe it's not that little boys don't have the so called baby skills that women have…maybe we just never let them practice."

Daryl bit at his thumb while he drove.

"Ain't wanted no damn doll," he said.

Andrea looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He might not have wanted a doll…or he might have wanted one. It was hard to tell what truth was and what was fiction when a Dixon was hard set on not letting you know the difference.

The fact of the matter was that he wanted a baby…or rather he wanted Lil' Bit and that was clear to anyone that was around him. And whether he wanted it or not when he was a kid, he had a doll now, and Andrea could see that he was going to be serious about this shit.

"I just hope Merle doesn't break it," Andrea said, looking back at the doll.

Daryl shot her a look before returning his eyes to the road.

"He better not," Daryl responded.

Andrea snickered. Once upon a time, Merle might have broken the head off Daryl's doll simply to piss him off…or simply to be Merle…but she was starting to think that the nice alien altered Merle they'd gotten back from the invasion that no one knew about wasn't the kind that would do such a thing.

"I'm teasing," she said. "I don't think he'd do that. I wouldn't let him."

"Ya think ya could stop Merle from doin' what he damn well pleases?" Daryl asked.

Andrea thought for a minute that she hoped she wasn't getting to bold, but decided that she felt confident, at least for the moment in what she was saying and in herself.

"I think I have my ways," she said.

Daryl cut his eyes at her, but smiled a little, continuing back toward the house where they could introduce a sick Carol to her new, fake offspring for the week and figure out how to keep Lincoln from thinking it was a very noisy chew toy.


End file.
